Blind Trust
by blucougar57
Summary: When disaster strikes, a member of the Major Case Squad must fight to rebuild his shattered trust in others. Crossover with SVU.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note_: I am such a glutton for punishment, it's just not funny. I'd also like to kill my muse right now. This is a sadistic little story (though probably not little for long) came to me the other night, and insisted on being started. And since I started it, I figured I might as well put it up and see how people take it. This is just a short first chapter, and it's probably as close as I could get to a traditional Criminal Intent episode opening. Where it goes from here could be anyone's guess, including mine...  
And, according to the translations I got, the two Italian phrases that are towards the end of this chapter are simply 'Oh my God', and 'Holy Mary, Mother of God'. If this is not the case, I claim poetic license.  
The title is more of a working title than a definitive one. I couldn't think of anything else at the time.

Rated: M, for high-level angst and physical suffering, and strong references to violence. You have been warned. This isn't a happy, fluffy story. I'm seriously trying to outdo myself here, so if you felt uncomfortable with the opening couple of chapters of 'Nightmare', or the violence in 'Deliverance' turned you off, don't read this.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to Law & Order: Criminal Intent, or Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. The show, characters, and everything therein belongs to Dick Wolf - except for the character Rosa Pirelli.

_

* * *

_

_4.25pm  
Friday afternoon_

Mrs Rosa Pirelli puffed breathlessly as she trudged into the foyer of her apartment building, struggling under the weight of two very large shopping bags that were filled to the brim with groceries. Her daughter held told her many times that if she insisted on shopping weekly, she should call the grocery store and have it delivered, but Rosa enjoyed the outing and she enjoyed seeing all the familiar faces.

Getting home might have been a bit of a bother, but it was worth it in her opinion.

"Here, let me help you, Mrs Pirelli."

Rosa smiled as her neighbour, Robert Goren, fell into step beside her and gently relieved her of the heavy bags.

"Thankyou, Robert. You're an absolute angel."

He smiled wryly as he followed her into the lift.

"I'm no angel, Mrs Pirelli."

She chuckled softly.

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't hear when you have lady friends over for the night. The walls aren't soundproof, you know."

To her amusement, his cheeks flushed violently red at her gentle teasing. He really was a very sweet man, she thought. It amazed her that no woman had, as yet, been lucky enough to catch him. Then again, she mused, her thoughts going to the lovely petite blond that he worked so closely with, and always raved about when she invited him over for a meal… Maybe, just maybe, this boy's heart already belonged to another, and he just hadn't realised it yet.

"You're home early for a Friday," she observed. "Don't you usually work late?"

He grinned at that.

"If you call pizza and beer at Carucci's work, then yeah. Usually. My partner and I usually have a standing appointment, but she had a family get-together to go to this evening."

"And how is your partner? Alexandra, isn't it?"

"Alex, yes…"

"Alexandra," Rosa corrected, her voice taking on a strict tone. "I don't agree with calling women by a boy's name. Particularly one as lovely as your partner."

Bobby smiled. That was just like Rosa. She refused to call him anything but Robert, and it was amazing how many different inflections she could put on those two syllables. It was no surprise, therefore, that she refused to call Eames anything but Alexandra.

"She prefers to be called Alex," he tried one last time, and Rosa snorted in response.

"Nonsense. A lady likes to feel that she is a lady. You don't go treating someone as lovely as that like one of the boys."

He fell quiet at that, and she smirked to herself in triumph. It was amazing how many people living in their building were afraid of Robert, and yet she had no problems reducing him to speechlessness.

They reached her apartment, and Robert followed Rosa inside at her beckoning, depositing the bags safely on the table.

"Thankyou, dear," she said, patting his hand affectionately. "Now, you are coming for dinner tomorrow night, yes?"

His cheeks flushed red again, this time with a different kind of embarrassment.

"I needed to talk to you about that, Mrs Pirelli."

She focused a hard look on him.

"You're not standing up an old lady, are you?"

The poor dear was actually nervous, she thought with affectionate amusement.

"It's just… Well… Tomorrow… I'm expecting a visitor…"

"Another lady friend?"

"No! No… It, um… Actually, it's my brother, Richie."

Rosa's amused smile faded quickly. She'd known Bobby Goren a long time now, nearly ten years, and she knew some of his family history. She had met his brother once before, albeit briefly, and didn't like him one bit. Unlike his little brother Robert, Richard Goren came across as a sleazy creep who would cheerfully sell his own mother to get himself out of trouble. And trouble was what he was frequently in.

"In trouble again, is he?"

Bobby shuffled nervously from one foot to the other, staring intently at the floor.

"I don't know… He said he just wants to catch up… I don't know. But I don't think I'm going to be able to come for dinner tomorrow night, Mrs Pirelli."

She decided to let him off the hook, hating as always to see him so distressed.

"It's all right, Robert. How about this, then. You have your little catch up with your brother tomorrow, and then you come for dinner on Sunday night. I'll make ravioli, if you like."

He hesitated in answering, but the way his eyes lit up was enough of an answer for her. Smiling, she patted his hand again.

"Good, that's settled. You come for dinner Sunday night, seven o'clock on the dot, and you can tell me all about everything."

He excused himself with a smile, and she watched him go with open affection. If she'd ever had a son, she hoped he would have turned out just like Robert Goren – smart, sweet, courteous and exceptionally kind. She knew he had a dark side… didn't everyone? But she didn't mind, and the truth was that she'd come to love him as dearly as she loved her own daughter.

Still smiling to herself, she set about putting away her groceries and thinking about what she would prepare for Sunday night to go with the ravioli.

* * *

_11.48pm  
__Saturday night_

Rosa looked up in annoyance for the umpteenth time that night, frowning darkly at the wall that separated her apartment from her neighbour's as there was yet another loud crash. She didn't know what could have started the fight that Robert was clearly having with his older brother, but if it kept going for much longer, she would be going over there herself to put a stop to it.

The crashing about had started perhaps half an hour ago; loud, muffled bangs that sounded for all the world like furniture was being thrown about. Just quietly, she was surprised the neighbours on the other side of Robert's apartment hadn't called the police. Although, it was common knowledge that Robert _was_ a police officer, so they probably felt that whatever the trouble, he was more than capable of dealing with it.

Abruptly, the noise ceased. Rosa thought she could still hear the murmur of voices through the wall, but clearly whatever the fight had been about, it had been resolved. Finally…

Still frowning, Rosa settled back down in her bed to go to sleep. She'd let it go for now, but rest assured she _would_ be having a strict word with Robert tomorrow night, without fail.

* * *

_7.15pm  
__Sunday night_

Rosa walked slowly down the hallway to Robert Goren's apartment. He'd been due at her door at seven, sharp, and up until now he had never been late. She came up to his door and knocked firmly, once. To her surprise, and growing consternation, the door swung open easily.

"Oh il mio dio…"

The words slipped out almost unnoticed as she stepped inside the detective's apartment, looking around in shock. The place was not merely a mess, it had been very thoroughly trashed. All the furniture was overturned, the television and the stereo was smashed, the few paintings that had hung on the walls had been slashed to ribbons. Worst of all, though, were the books.

The books that had filled the shelves all around his apartment had all been swept off onto the floor, pushed into one huge pile, and set alight. All that remained of them was charred rubble.

How, Rosa wondered in distress, did that happen without setting off the sprinkler system that every apartment was connected to?

Rosa looked around, and her gaze came to rest on the closed door that concealed the view of Robert's bedroom. Heart in her throat, Rosa ventured over and knocked gently on the door.

"Robert…? Are you there? Are you all right?"

There was no answer. Somehow, she'd known there wouldn't be. Feeling sick with anticipation, Rosa turned the handle and pushed the door wide open.

"Santa Mary, la Madre di Dio…"

For several long seconds, Rosa Pirelli stood on the threshold of Robert Goren's bedroom, staring in horror at the sight before her, before turning and fleeing the apartment, screaming for help.

* * *

_tbc..._


	2. Attending the Scene

_**A/N**_: I would like to reassure folks that I haven't let myself get completely side-tracked and forget about 'Remembrance'. That story is itching to be written as much as this one. I've decided to make a concerted effort to write at least one chapter a week of each story – 'Nightmare', 'Remembrance' and 'Blind Trust'. Then, if I manage more than that, it'll be a bonus.

**To AC**: LOL, thanks. But I would like to assure you that the character of Rosa is not in any way based on myself or anyone I know. Yes, I think she will continue to feature in the story, but I don't want anyone to think this is a Mary Sue, because it isn't. I made that mistake once a long time ago, and I'm still trying to live it down.

On a related note, I want to acknowledge (and give my apologies to) TriStateCopFan – this wonderful writer has a character called Rosa in one of her stories (who is soon to be Bobby's mother in-law), and I don't mean to steal anything from that. I don't know how or why I came up with the name Rosa. It just fitted what I was wanting for this story. Also for the reference to Carucci's – again, the name just kind of popped into my head when I was writing the first chapter. I wasn't consciously attempting to copy in any way.

I suppose my only excuse is that I've read 'Finding My Son, Finding Myself' so many times now (it's the only story I've printed off so that I can read it when I'm away from my work computer) that the names have well and truly sunk into my subconscious.

* * *

_7.35pm  
__Apartment of Detective Alexandra Eames_

Alex Eames had just curled up in her favourite chair, fleecy rug pulled around her shoulders, and a good book resting on her lap. This was one of her favourite ways to spend her Sunday nights, knowing that a potentially long and hard week of work loomed ahead.

She was just settling down and taking a sip of hot tea when her cell phone rang.

Scowling, Alex set her mug down and reluctantly picked up the phone, checking the caller ID before answering it. She was mildly surprised - and disturbed - to find it was not her partner calling her, but her captain.

"Eames."

"Alex, it's Captain Deakins."

Alex bit back the urge to sigh. Just what she didn't want or need - a call out on a Sunday night.

"New case?" she asked.

"Not for you," Deakins answered, and Alex felt a sudden chill as she sensed the tension in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Deakins spoke in a quiet, grim voice.

"I was just informed a few minutes ago, a 911 call went out from Goren's building not quite fifteen minutes ago… SVU have been called out."

Alex sat frozen, her breath turning icy in her throat. She knew instantly what Deakins was trying to say without him actually saying it aloud, and the sudden panic she felt clutching at her chest and throat was nearly unbearable.

"Is he… Is he dead…?" She forced the question out, though she was terrified of the answer she might get.

"No."

The relief crashed down on her so hard that she barely heard the rest of what he was saying.

"…Did you hear me, Alex? I said, he's not dead, but apparently he's in a bad way. It looks like someone messed him up pretty badly."

"I'm going over there."

"No, that's not a good idea…"

"He's my partner, sir. Don't tell me to stay away."

There was a long silence, and then Deakins reluctantly gave in.

"All right. But you'd better brace yourself."

Alex swallowed hard.

"I'm going now."

She hung up before he had a chance to object further and, pausing only long enough to grab her coat, Alex fled her apartment.

* * *

"Man, would you look at all this…"

Olivia Benson didn't answer as she looked around the main room of Detective Robert Goren's apartment. Someone had well and truly trashed the place. Nothing, but _nothing_ had been left untouched.

"All his books…" Elliot Stabler muttered. "Hell… What a mess…"

"C'mon," Olivia murmured, leading the way to the bedroom.

The paramedics were already there when they entered. One of them stood up as Olivia and Elliot made their way into the bedroom.

"Holy mother of God…" Elliot whispered as he finally laid eyes on Bobby Goren's broken and battered form.

"Apparently that's what the neighbour was screaming over and over," the first paramedic said grimly. "I don't suppose either of you would have keys that would open those handcuffs? Because otherwise we're going to have to bring in a handsaw to start getting him loose."

Both detectives looked at each other helplessly.

"Every set of handcuffs is different," Olivia said. "Our keys won't open those cuffs."

"I'll go down and get the bolt cutters from our car," Elliot offered. "Hang on, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Olivia watched him go, then returned her attention to the injured man on the bed. She looked him over slowly, taking in all the horrific injuries that he'd sustained.

Bobby's back was what drew her immediate attention. It appeared to her that someone had taken to him with a whip, or perhaps some sort of metal stick. Whatever had been used, the job done had been a thorough one. His back was covered in welts and deep, ugly lacerations, from shoulders to buttocks.

His left arm was very badly broken, and so too were both of his hands and most of his fingers. And though his lower body was covered loosely by a sheet, it didn't hide the fact that both of his legs appeared to have been broken as well.

His head looked like it had suffered a couple of severe blows. His hair was matted with blood that still looked tacky, and his face was an absolute mess, badly swollen and covered in cuts and bruises.

Even worse, though, Olivia realised numbly, were his eyes. Both of his eyes were effectively sealed shut thanks to severe burns. A brief glance around revealed what she quickly suspected, that the poker from his little built-in wood heater was the implement used to inflict those particular injuries.

Olivia shuddered, unable to stop herself. From head to toe, Bobby Goren's body was one massive open wound. Rarely in her life had she ever seen anything so god-awful.

She leaned in close, noticing through the cloudy plastic of the oxygen mask that something appeared to be stuffed into his mouth.

"Was he gagged?"

The second paramedic, who was monitoring Bobby's heart rate, nodded.

"Yeah. We got it off him as soon as we got in here. Why?"

"Well, this oxygen mask isn't going to do him a hell of a lot of good while there's something jammed in his mouth."

Crouching down, Olivia lifted the mask off, then gently drew his mouth open with one gloved hand and pulled a thick wad of material out with the other. She winced a little as a couple of his teeth came out with it. Suppressing another shudder, Olivia carefully replaced the oxygen mask and was relieved to hear Bobby's breath coming a little easier with the removal of the obstruction from his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you can't go in there…"

Olivia looked up at the sound of the uniformed officer outside speaking in a quasi-authoritative voice. A moment later there was a new voice, one that caused Olivia to groan softly.

"Get the hell out of my way. That's my partner in there."

"S… Sorry, Detective…"

Olivia got up quickly and wheeled around just as Alex Eames strode into the bedroom.

"Alex…"

Alex pushed Olivia away, even as the taller woman tried futilely to block her view of Bobby.

"Oh god, no…" Alex choked out, tears flooding her eyes as she got a good look at her stricken partner. Olivia tried again to manoeuvre her out of the room.

"You know you shouldn't be in here, Alex. C'mon, come outside with me…"

Again, Alex tried to pull away from her.

"No… Damn it, you look me in the eye, Olivia, and tell me that you could keep away if it was Elliot that this had happened to."

That deflated Olivia very abruptly.

"Okay," she murmured reluctantly. Alex immediately pushed past to get to her partner's side.

"Why haven't the cuffs been taken off?" she demanded, her voice high barely-controlled panic.

"The key is missing, Alex. Elliot's gone to get the bolt cutters from our car."

Alex promptly pulled a small collection of keys out of her pocket and quickly found the one she wanted. Then, while one of the paramedics held Bobby's arms, Alex unlocked the handcuffs and carefully removed the blood-slicked metal that had cut so deeply into his wrists.

"Thankyou," one of the paramedics said as he quickly covered the wounds in an effort stop the bleeding. "But we're still going to need those bolt cutters. His ankles are chained to the bed frame."

Alex and Olivia both looked and, sure enough, Bobby's ankles were wrapped in chains and secured to the bed frame.

"Elliot won't be long," Olivia murmured, acutely aware of how pale Alex was right then.

Meanwhile, Alex's attention had gone to the bloodied sheet that covered the lower half of her partner's body.

"Is he…?" she started to ask, only to falter.

"You mean, is he naked?" the first paramedic asked grimly. "Yeah, he is, but for the record, he was already covered up like this when we got here. And yeah, all that blood appears to be the result of a pretty violent penetration. It's the main reason we asked for SVU in the first place, and not Major Case."

"Who found him?" Alex asked tremulously as she dropped to her knees by the head of the bed, and reached out with trembling fingers to gently caress Bobby's bruised face. She desperately wanted him to stir, to wake up, to show some definitive sign of life, but there was nothing. He remained still and silent, the only indication that he was even alive being the irregular, ragged breaths he took that were amplified in sound by the oxygen mask over his face.

"One of his neighbours," Olivia answered, consulting the notes she had. "A Mrs Rosa Pirelli. Apparently she came looking for him when he didn't show up at her apartment for dinner. It was the neighbours on the other side that called 911, after Mrs Pirelli started screaming for help."

Alex stared at her partner's battered features, feeling sick and frightened. Bobby hadn't simply been attacked. This was no spur of the moment act of violence. This was torture, a cold and calculated act of premeditated evil. But who…? Who could have done it…? Who could possibly have caught Bobby Goren so unawares that they could do all this to him?

At that moment, Elliot strode back in, bolt cutters in hand. He faltered when he saw Alex, but quickly recovered and handed the bolt cutters to the waiting paramedics. Between them, they cut through the chains that held the injured detective in restraint. With the chains finally discarded, the paramedics launched themselves into treating the most immediate of Bobby's wounds, in preparation for transporting him to hospital.

Alex found herself pushed unceremoniously out of the way while the paramedics worked. She stood aside numbly, helpless to do anything but watch, and yet desperate to actively help. She felt a pair of arms enclose her shoulders, and urge her gently towards the bedroom door.

"C'mon, Alex," Elliot murmured. "Let's let these guys do their job, huh?"

She tried to resist, but Elliot wasn't taking no for an answer. With absolute care, Elliot guided Alex out of the bedroom.

"Oh my god… His books…"

Alex pulled out of Elliot's grip, and stumbled over to the pile of ash and debris that had once been Bobby's beloved collection of books.

"How could they do this?" she choked out, tears flooding her eyes. Elliot gently took her by the arm, and tried to lead her out of the apartment. Again, she resisted him, so he took a firm hold of her shoulders and steered her towards the door.

Out in the hall, Alex crumpled against the wall, her knees almost buckling beneath her.

"Here," Elliot murmured, grabbing a chair from a little ways down the hall, and setting it down so she could sit. "Alex, when did you see or talk to Goren last?"

Alex drew in a steadying breath that, in reality, did little to calm her.

"Friday afternoon. We wrapped up the Petersen case… Managed to finish all the paperwork early for Carver… Deakins gave us the all-clear to go early. N… Normally we go to Carucci's on a Friday night… But it was my dad's birthday."

"So you haven't seen him, or talked to him since Friday afternoon?"

"No."

"Okay. Just one more thing…"

She looked up at him, her eyes already red from shedding tears.

"Do I know if he had any particular plans for the weekend, or if he was meeting up with anyone?"

Elliot smiled a little. "Yeah, got it in one."

"No, he didn't tell me about any plans… except… He did mention on Friday morning that he was supposed to have been having dinner on Saturday night with Mrs Pirelli, but that his plans had suddenly changed. But then Carver arrived, and he never got around to saying why they'd changed."

Elliot nodded.

"Okay, Alex. Why don't you wait here, and then when the paramedics come out, you can go with Goren to the hospital."

She nodded, too dazed to argue. Elliot was about to go back into the apartment when a new voice spoke.

"Alexandra!"

Both he and Alex looked around to see an elderly lady coming down the hallway towards them, her attention fixed solely on Alex, who stood up to meet her.

"Mrs Pirelli…"

The old woman threw her arms around Alex, sobbing noisily.

"I should have checked in on him," she cried. "I'm so sorry, I should have checked…"

Alex hugged her back, dismayed that Bobby's sweet, gentle elderly neighbour should feel any guilt for something that was completely beyond her powers of control.

"It's okay," she murmured, as much to reassure herself as the woman she was hugging. "He'll be okay. It's not your fault, Mrs Pirelli."

"No, you don't understand," Rosa sobbed. "Last night, there was so much loud noise from his apartment, but I didn't do anything!"

Elliot approached slowly.

"What sort of loud noise?"

Rosa pulled away from Alex, looking up at Elliot tearfully.

"Loud banging, and shouting. I thought he was just having an argument with his brother…"

"His brother?" Alex asked, startled. "Richie was here?"

Rosa nodded, her chest hitching as she struggled to control her sobs. "Yes. Robert was supposed to have dinner with me last night, but he said his brother was coming to see him. So I told him never mind about dinner on Saturday, to come on Sunday instead. I never saw his brother arrive… I really don't like him… but last night… a bit before midnight, I think, the noise started. It sounded like furniture being thrown around… like a real fight was going on. I should have called the police, I know… But Robert is a detective, I thought he could handle it! And then, this morning, I didn't think about it at all, but I should have checked in on him. Il mio ragazzo povero…"

Rosa broke into a fresh flood of tears, and Alex gently guided her to sit in the chair.

"How could he do such a thing to his own brother?" Rosa asked plaintively. "How could he?"

Alex looked back at Elliot. She knew the look on his face all too well. It was the same look she often saw on Bobby's face when he stumbled onto a strong lead in a potentially difficult case. He looked like a hungry lion, whose prey had just come into sight.

"Do you know anything about this brother?" Elliot asked. Alex shook her head.

"No, not a lot. Bobby was never really willing to talk about him, and I've never met him."

"I've met him," Rosa spat, a sudden vehemence in her voice. "Piece of filth, that's all he is! Always in trouble, always coming begging to Robert to get him out of it. Piece of filth!"

"What's his name?" Elliot asked, scribbling something in his notebook.

"Richard," Alex answered softly, her gaze going to the door of Bobby's apartment. Elliot saw her attention diverting, and looked around to see the paramedics coming out, guiding the gurney to which Bobby had been secured. Olivia and the uniformed officer followed close behind, watching grimly.

"Detective Eames is going with you," Elliot told the paramedics firmly, who nodded in agreement. They were in too much of a hurry to get their charge to hospital to argue with the formidable SVU detective.

Throwing a grateful look in Elliot's direction, Alex left Rosa with him and hurried after the paramedics.

* * *

"Holy crap, look at this."

Elliot and Olivia looked around as Munch and Fin made their way gingerly into the trashed apartment.

"Cragen called you guys out too, huh?" Elliot asked.

"He was in a real state," Munch answered, shaking his head. "Ranted something about all hands on deck. So what've we got?"

"Violent physical and sexual assault," Olivia answered. "From what we've got so far, it started some time last night, before midnight."

Fin picked his way across to the bedroom, peering in at the CSU officers who were there. He turned away a moment later, whistling softly.

"Sorry son of a bitch must have pissed someone off big time. So who's the vic?"

Olivia stood up slowly from where she'd been crouching to examine the burned pile of books.

"Cragen didn't tell you?"

"All Cragen told us was the address, and to get our asses over here as fast as possible," Fin replied, his face creasing into a deep frown.

"And I, for one, am not happy about getting called out on a Sunday night," Munch added.

Elliot paused in his own examinations to favour the tall detective with a flat stare.

"Not even when the victim is a cop?"

Fin and Munch stared at him, taken aback.

"A cop?" Fin asked tensely. "Who?"

"Bobby Goren, from Major Case," Olivia told them.

"Goren?" Fin echoed incredulously. "You're not serious…"

"Deadly serious," Olivia said grimly.

"Shit," Munch muttered. "The Press is gonna be all over this like a rash. So who found him?"

"His neighbour found him," Elliot explained. "And believe me when I say that poor woman is going to need therapy."

"Not good?" Fin wondered.

"Massive understatement," Elliot answered. "The guy was beaten more than half to death, then chained and handcuffed to his own bed, and had the hell sodomised out of him. He's got two broken legs, two broken hands, his back was whipped to hell and his eyes have been burned. And that's just for starters."

"He was tortured?" Munch asked, and Olivia nodded.

"That's what it looks like. This was a deliberate, planned attack, guys."

"You realise we're looking at more than one perp?" Munch asked. "There's no way in hell that one person could bring down a guy like Goren. Not like this. The guy is over six foot, for Christ's sake. He's built like a brick wall."

"Good luck to us finding a suspect to start with," Fin muttered as he looked around. "Half of New York's criminal fraternity could be viable suspects. Goren's just a little too good at pissing people off."

"You're not wrong," Elliot agreed, "but we do actually have a starting point. Goren postponed having dinner with his neighbour last night because he was apparently expecting a visit from his older brother. And that same neighbour was woken up last night some time before midnight by the sounds of fighting coming from Goren's apartment."

"But she didn't bother calling the local uniforms," Munch said with a shake of his head.

"She figured that Goren is a cop, and he could handle it, whatever the problem was," Olivia said.

"We're going to need you guys to talk to her again," Elliot told them, "so try not to make an issue of it. She's feeling guilty enough as it is."

"Hey, has anyone thought to call Goren's partner?" Fin asked suddenly. Elliot gave a short laugh.

"Are you kidding us? Eames got here about five minutes after we did. Near as we can figure, Cragen called Deakins, and Deakins called Eames. Anyway, she went with the ambulance to the hospital. We're going to head there ourselves after we finish here."

"Okay," Munch said wearily. "Let's go talk to the neighbours."

* * *

_tbc..._


	3. The Wait Begins

_St Clare's Hospital_

She hated hospitals. Hated the sight, the smell, the feel of them. It was all the waiting. Endless, sickening, hopeless waiting. Ever since her mother's stroke, hospitals had been a place to dread, places that meant death rather than life. She hated them with every fibre of her being.

And now here she was, waiting yet again. This time it was not a family member, but her best friend and partner whose life hung in the balance. The partner she was supposed to watch out for… protect… and she'd failed.

Unwittingly, her mind slipped back to that moment when she'd walked into the bedroom and gotten her first look at her partner. Despite Deakins' warnings, she really hadn't been prepared for the scene that would greet her. Truth was, she doubted that anything could have prepared her for the sight of her partner lying naked, chained and handcuffed to his bed, with the life just about beaten out of him. And then there was the rest…

'_...is he naked? Yes, he is_...'

Assaulted… Molested… Sodomised… It all came down to the same thing, in the end, no matter what terminology was used. She drew in a ragged breath. Bobby had been raped…

"Alex?"

At first, the voice didn't register in her exhausted, shell-shocked mind. She heard it, but it was a distant noise, nothing more. Then, a hand alighted on her shoulder, and she looked up slowly, drawn back to the present to find a familiar, concerned face peering down at her.

"Captain?" she whispered, sounding as dazed as she looked. Somewhere in her bewildered mind it registered that he was wearing a dinner suit, but then that thought was dismissed back to the nether regions of her mind.

Deakins sat down beside her, keeping one hand gently on her shoulder as though in an effort to keep her connected to reality.

"You came in with the ambulance?" he asked gently.

Alex nodded. God, she felt so sick. Numb, and sick. _Please_, she prayed miserably, _please don't make me actually talk_.

"How is he? Have you heard anything?"

She looked away to the floor, wondering dimly if she would be able to speak without throwing up violently. The terrifying journey from Bobby's apartment building to the hospital was forever burned into her memory. She knew damn well that she would have nightmares about it whenever it was that she next happened to sleep… and he wanted her to talk freely about it.

She drew in a long, slow breath and spoke woodenly, trying desperately to keep the shock, fear and grief at bay.

"They… They're trying to… to stabilise him…"

Deakins felt his stomach roll slightly. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Stabilise him how?"

Alex looked up at him finally, blinded by her own tears.

"He went into cardiac arrest… in the ambulance. They were still… still trying to revive him when… when we got here."

She broke down, sobbing helplessly into her hands. Deakins looked up at his wife, ashen-faced with shock as it slowly registered in his mind that there was every chance that Bobby Goren might already be dead.

"Give me your coat," Angie Deakins told him, and he did so without question or argument. Angie took the liberty of draping it around Alex's trembling shoulders, then sat down on the other side of her and hugged her reassuringly.

"Jim, go and find out whatever you can," she told him softly. "There must be someone who can tell us something."

With a last look at Alex, Deakins did as his wife suggested.

* * *

Dr David Warren made his way out of the ER feeling sick and exhausted, and feeling guilty for feeling sick and exhausted. He, along with three other trauma doctors, had been summoned urgently to the ER to deal with the police officer who was being brought in. The ambulance had arrived and, just temporarily, all other ER patients had been forgotten – thought, granted, that had less to do with the man's status as a police officer than with the fact that his injuries were truly horrific, and very much life-threatening.

He had actually been in cardiac arrest when the ambulance had arrived, and the entire ER staff scrambled with almost military precision in a monumental effort to save the injured man's life. And save him they had – at least for the moment. With a lot of skill, and even more luck, they had thankfully been able to revive him, and stabilise him enough for surgery.

That was where he was being rushed to now, up to surgery so that the massive internal damage that had been done could hopefully be repaired.

David sighed faintly as he passed through the double doors of the ER into a short corridor that ran parallel to the main waiting room. He was exhausted because he had already been at the end of a fifteen hour shift when the cop had been brought in, and the fact that he had been assigned to the cop as one of two available Orthopaedic specialists meant only a limited rest time before going back on duty. The other surgeon on duty, Dr Carl Shand, would actually be performing the necessary orthopaedic surgery now, in conjunction with whatever other surgery was necessary to save his life, and then the cop would be passed into his care for follow-up treatment.

The bottom line, though, was he would certainly not be going home tonight. He had to admit, though, that he was grateful that he wasn't performing the initial surgery. He was just too damned tired.

He paused before going on, his attention drawn to the reception counter in the waiting room. As near as he could tell from his vantage point, there were only a handful of people in the waiting area. What drew his attention, though, was the tall individual standing at the counter, arguing with the duty nurse.

David pushed the swinging door open and ventured slowly into the waiting room, his attention fixed on the man at the counter. He didn't necessarily look dangerous, but David had learnt the hard way that any human being had the capacity for violence, given the right stimulus. Perhaps this man's wife or child was sick… or hurt… and he was impatient with waiting. Given a high enough level of frustration, it was entirely possible that the situation could erupt, and he wanted to be ready to help if that were to happen.

As he got closer, he was able to make out what was being said.

"…must be someone that I can talk to! He was brought in over half an hour ago, now."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't…"

"Listen to me, damn it! I am his captain. Isn't there someone in this whole goddamn building who can tell me whether my detective is even still alive?"

Realisation hit. David hurried over, deciding he could at least provide some reassurance.

"Excuse me…"

The silver-haired man wheeled around, and David was momentarily taken aback by the look on his face. There was no aggression there, but rather raw pain and grief. Shaking himself back to reality, David drew the man away from the counter.

"Would I be right in thinking that you're asking about Robert Goren?"

The desperation and borderline panic in the other man's face was almost more than David could bear.

"Yes, I'm his captain, Jim Deakins. Are you a doctor?"

David nodded.

"Yes, and I can tell you that he is most certainly still alive."

The relief on Deakins' face was visible, but tempered. David saw immediately that he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that.

"He was taken off for surgery about ten minutes ago, once we'd managed to stabilise him."

"I was told he went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance."

David nodded again. "Yes, that's true, but we were able to revive him. He's still fighting, Captain Deakins. I assure you of that."

Finally, Deakins visibly relaxed as he accepted the doctor's words.

"Thankyou. I'm sorry if I was making a scene, but not knowing anything at all…"

"I understand," David murmured. "Look, I can't tell you much else at the moment, but I guess you already know he's in a pretty bad way. There are three surgeons taking care of him right now, so I can at least reassure you that he's getting the best possible care we can afford him. Our trauma specialists are among the best in the country."

Deakins smiled grimly.

"No need for the advertising plug, Doctor. I already know that. Why do you think the NYPD sends its wounded here?"

David laughed softly.

"Sorry, Captain. Standard reassurance device. I do it on reflex."

Deakins spoke quietly.

"Doctor…"

"Warren. David Warren."

"Dr Warren… How bad is it? Really?"

"I'd really prefer not to be speculating on Robert's condition at the moment."

"I understand that, but please, I'm asking because… It's just that, I didn't see him, but one of my other detectives did. Detective Eames… She's Detective Goren's partner… She's pretty badly distraught, and I'd like to have some idea of what caused that reaction in her."

David stared at him for a long moment before drawing him away to the side of the waiting room, and urging him to sit.

"Captain Deakins… I seriously doubt that I can adequately describe to you just how shocking a condition your detective was in. The bottom line is, he was literally beaten within an inch of his life, and sexually assaulted into the bargain."

Deakins felt an icy cold wave of panic sweep through his body, from head to toe.

"Raped? He… He was… _raped_?"

At the same time, a tiny inner voice whispered inside his mind, _Why so surprised? Why the hell do you think SVU were called in?_

"I didn't say raped," David corrected him firmly. "I said sexually assaulted. That's bad enough, but I won't confirm or deny suspicions of rape when I'm not qualified to do so. There was certainly evidence of interference, but how far that interference went, I can't tell you."

Deakins pressed one hand over his mouth, feeling sick to his gut. Who the hell could have done this to Bobby Goren…?

David stood up slowly.

"I have to go, Captain. I've just come off a fifteen hour shift, and I really do need some rest. One other thing, though, are you here alone?"

"No, my wife is here, and so is Detective Eames."

"All right. If you go down that corridor, there are a few private waiting lounges. You're welcome to wait in one of those. It would be a lot more comfortable than sitting in a cold corridor."

Deakins nodded, speaking unsteadily.

"Thankyou, Dr Warren. I think we'll do that. And thankyou for taking the time to speak with me."

David nodded and headed off, leaving Deakins sitting there, trying to collect his thoughts. He was about to get up and go back to Angie and Alex when he spotted two familiar faces entering the ER. Benson and Stabler saw him as they came in, and quickly made their way over.

"Sir," Olivia murmured in greeting as Deakins stood up to meet them. "Is there any word yet? We heard something about him going into cardiac arrest on the way to the hospital."

"Yes, but it's okay," Deakins told them. "They were able to revive him. He's in surgery now."

"Thank God for that," Olivia said with relief.

"I know I shouldn't be asking this," Deakins went on quietly, "but do you have any leads at all yet?"

The two detectives exchanged glances.

"You're right," Elliot confirmed. "You shouldn't be asking. But yeah, we do have a possible lead. Just don't ask us who."

"This is ridiculous," Olivia growled. "He's going to find out, if not from us, then from Alex. Sir, apparently Goren's brother was with him last night."

Deakins was taken aback.

"His older brother? Richard?"

Elliot nodded in confirmation.

"Yes. His neighbours on both sides say they were woken by the sounds of a fight happening in Goren's apartment just before midnight, but none of them called the police because they believed that whatever the problem was, Goren could handle it. In fact, he was only found as soon as this because he was supposed to be having dinner with one of those neighbours, and she went looking for him when he didn't turn up."

Deakins was feeling truly sick by then as the implications of Elliot's words sank in.

"So if that neighbour hadn't gone looking for him, the next likely person to find him would probably have been Eames tomorrow morning. Except, by then, he probably would have been dead."

"If he'd been left there for much longer?" Olivia said. "Then yes, we think he would have died."

"Oh god, this is bad," Deakins mumbled, pressing his hand over his eyes to stave of the threat of a migraine.

"That's a massive understatement," Elliot said. "Captain Deakins… You understand why SVU was handed the case…?"

"Yes, I know, Detective Stabler. I know Goren was sexually assaulted. And I expect Detective Eames is aware of that fact too, isn't she?"

Again, Elliot and Olivia exchanged grim looks. Olivia nodded in answer.

"Yes, Sir. She knows."

Deakins took a step back, towards the door. "I have to get back. I assume you two will be heading back to report to Cragen?"

"Yes," Olivia answered. "We'll ask him to keep you informed."

Deakins nodded in wordless thanks. He watched the two detectives exit the hospital again, then hurried to get back to the two women who were waiting for news.

* * *

When he got back, he found Angie had managed to calm Alex down considerably, and now the detective sat sipping at a steaming cup of very strong coffee while Angie looked on with almost maternal concern. Both women looked up as he approached, and he managed a small, pale smile.

"He's still alive. They were able to revive him. He's in surgery now."

Angie's breath escaped her in audible relief, while Alex shuddered, and shut her eyes in a brief, silent prayer of thanks.

"How about we head down here, and wait in one of the private lounges?" he suggested.

"That's a good idea," Angie murmured. She took hold of Alex's arm, urging the smaller woman to her feet and guiding her down the hallway and into the first private room available.

"Alex," Deakins asked quietly, once they were seated again, "what do you know about Bobby's older brother?"

She looked up at him questioningly.

"You've spoken to Benson and Stabler?"

He nodded.

"Yes. They came here to find out how Bobby is. They told me his brother is a possible suspect. Has Bobby ever spoken to you about him?"

"Only once or twice. He never really had much to say about him. All I know is that he got himself a college basketball scholarship when Bobby was thirteen, and pretty much left Bobby to look after their mother on his own."

Deakins sighed softly. "Great. So Bobby probably has about as much love for him as he does for his father."

"I know he never finished his college degree," Alex went on. "And he's come back to Bobby a few times over the last ten years, begging for help to get out of trouble."

"So it's possible that he'd come looking for help again," Deakins mused, "and maybe this time Bobby said no."

Alex was silent for a long moment before speaking.

"Sir, I'd like to assist in the investigation."

Deakins did a double-take.

"Alex…"

"Please," she begged, "I need to be involved in this. I can't be left out of the loop."

"You won't be," he assured her. "But I can't give authorisation for you to assist. You know that. Don Cragen at SVU would never allow it, and I can't blame him."

She slumped back in her seat miserably.

"I need to be able to do something to help, Sir."

"I understand that, Alex, but you cannot be directly involved in this investigation. You know you can't."

She didn't answer that, staring instead at the floor. Deakins watched her for a while, then added threateningly, "And don't even think of running your own investigation. Do you understand me, Detective Eames?"

She nodded, conceding with obvious reluctance.

"Yes, Sir."

Angie spared her husband a grim look, then spoke quietly.

"Alex, is there someone we can call for you? Your father, perhaps?"

Alex continued to stare bleakly at the floor.

"I'm okay."

Deakins stood up.

"I'll give Gavin a call. You shouldn't go home and be by yourself."

She did look up at him then.

"Don't bother. I'm not leaving."

It was with some effort that Deakins suppressed a sigh. He knew he should have expected that.

"Alex, there is no point in you staying here all night. He could be in surgery for hours yet, and you aren't going to be able to see him until some time tomorrow morning, at the absolute earliest. There really is no point…"

He trailed off, silenced by the hardened look in her eyes.

"I don't care. I'm not going anywhere."

"Alex…" Deakins started to protest, but again she cut him off.

"What do you think Bobby would be doing right now if it was me that had been… had been hurt? Do you think he'd be going home to get some sleep? Or do you think he'd be camped out here?"

Deakins' shoulder slumped in defeat. Alex had very firmly made her point.

"Okay, Alex… Okay. I'll talk to the staff, get them to set you up in here with a pillow and blankets. But please, will you try and get some sleep? You won't be of much use to him when he wakes up, if you're exhausted beyond reason, will you?"

It was a cheap shot, but Alex was too tired and too sick with worry for Bobby to argue. She conceded with a nod, and Deakins sighed with relief.

"Okay, good. I'll give your father a call…"

She shook her head then.

"He and Mom have gone away. They won't be back for a few weeks yet."

Deakins frowned in frustration.

"I don't want to leave you here on your own. What about your brother? Or your sister?"

Alex conceded once more. The truth was, she didn't really care to wait alone.

"My brother… but I'll call him."

Deakins regarded her intently.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I'll call Philip. I promise."

Deakins finally gave in, getting to his feet and opening the door. Angie paused long enough to give Alex a hug before allowing her husband to usher her out.

* * *

Alex sat in silence for nearly ten minutes after Deakins and his wife left, before the gears of her mind slowly began to crank over. She had told Elliot Stabler, and then Deakins, that she knew very little about Bobby's older brother, and that was true. Bobby had never really confided in her, and she had always suspected it was because Richard was still very much a thorn in his side. Where he was haunted by the ghost of his deadbeat father, and the threat of his mother's illness, his brother was obviously still an active presence, and clearly an unwelcome one at that.

So he had never divulged much more about Richard than she had been able to glean from scraps and hints of information that he'd dropped during various cases. But there was one person who might know more, someone whom Bobby might have talked to more openly about his brother.

With Deakins' warning about investigating the case ringing in her ears, Alex pulled out her cell phone and began to dial.

* * *

Lewis was working late. Or, perhaps more accurately, he was trying to stave off a royally foul mood by focusing on the vehicle he was currently restoring. It wasn't working.

Truth be told, it was actually making his mood worse, and that was mainly because the true object of his irritation was supposed to have been working with him today on this very vehicle.

What really bugged Lewis was that Bobby Goren was normally a hundred percent reliable. Sure, his job was unpredictable, but he _always_ called if something came up. This time, though? Nada. Not even a goddamn text message.

When Bobby hadn't turned up by ten (he should have been at the workshop by eight), Lewis had tried calling his apartment. The son of a bitch actually picked up his phone, then hung up again straight away, without saying a word. When Lewis tried again, all he got was an engaged signal telling him Bobby had taken his phone off the hook.

Already feeling well and truly pissed off at his buddy, Lewis decided to go ahead with working on the car, and Bobby could just go to hell.

He cell rang, startling him into dropping his wrench right on his own head. Swearing furiously, Lewis rolled out from under the car and grabbed the phone. If this was Bobby now, he was going to get an earful like he'd never known.

"What?" he exploded into the phone, half-convincing himself that it was Bobby calling to offer some lame-ass excuse for being a no-show.

"Lewis, it's Alex."

Lewis felt his stomach drop abruptly at the thought that he'd just blown up at the one woman that he had serious interest in.

"A… Alex…? Oh… man… I'm sorry. I thought you might have been Bobby. I don't s'pose you know where he is? He was supposed to be helping me today with a restoration job, but the mook never showed up. He wouldn't even talk to me when I called his place earlier this morning. He just picked up and hung up. Then he left his damn phone off the hook altogether."

On the other end of the line, Alex went cold.

"Lewis, what time did you call Bobby this morning?"

"Um… Around ten. Why?"

Alex shut her eyes, trying to fight off a sudden bout of nausea. She knew there was no way it could have been Bobby who picked up Lewis' call earlier that morning, and if the trouble had started before midnight, then that meant that Bobby's attacker… or attackers… had been there for more than ten hours. This meant that Bobby had been tortured literally all night.

"…Alex? Are you still there?"

"I'm here," she said. "Lewis… I'm at St Clare's Hospital. I think you need to come… I can't explain what's happened over the phone."

Lewis sucked in a long breath, as two little words snaked through his mind.

_Oh, shit_…

"I'm on my way."

* * *

Following Alex's instructions, Lewis quickly found the small room where she was waiting. He faltered in the doorway, taking in her ashen face and swollen, red-rimmed eyes in growing dismay before walking over and sitting down next to her on the sofa.

"What's happened?" he asked softly, though at the same time dreading the answer. "Did he… You know, did he get shot?"

Alex shuddered, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Lewis felt a sudden, insane desire to lean over and kiss it away, but wisely suppressed the urge. Instead, he pulled a handkerchief from his denim's pocket and offered it to her. She accepted, but the movement was almost robotic. She was functioning on auto-pilot, he thought grimly. He could have just handed her a venomous snake, and she probably wouldn't have noticed.

"No," she answered finally. "Not shot. But maybe it would have been better if he had been. He… He was attacked, Lewis. His neighbour found him a little over an hour ago. He was chained and handcuffed to his bed, and beaten almost to death."

"Oh god," Lewis whispered in horror. "Oh god… And I… I just… Oh god…"

He looked at her, suddenly feeling more frightened than he had been for a long time.

"When?" he asked hoarsely.

"Some time last night."

"But… then… it couldn't have been Bobby who picked up the phone this morning… could it?"

She watched with acute sorrow as the realisation dawned on his bespectacled face.

"Oh… Oh no… I could've called for help… But I just let myself be mad at him. But I should have known! I should have known something was wrong…"

She reached out and closed her hand lightly over his.

"You couldn't have known he was in trouble anymore than anyone else knew, Lewis."

He looked back at her, the pain only too evident in his eyes.

"I _should've_ known, Alex. I've known Bobby for over twenty years, and he's never stood me up once, especially not when there was a car involved. If he was tied up with anything, he'd have let me know. So you see, I should have known. And I didn't do a fucking thing."

Dimly, Alex realised that Lewis was not going to be comforted any more easily than she; she for failing her partner, and he for failing his friend. Well, she thought miserably, at least they could sit and feel guilty together.

"I don't suppose you can tell me if they know who did it yet?" Lewis asked with little hope.

"Sorry, no," Alex murmured, wondering how she was going to raise the subject of Bobby's brother without putting ideas into Lewis' head. As it turned out, she didn't have to worry.

"You said it happened last night?" he asked, and she nodded in wordless confirmation. An instant later, Lewis was out of his seat, pacing back and forth like a wildcat.

"His brother… Damn… Bobby was supposed to be meeting his brother last night. He told me a couple of days ago, it's one of the reasons I offered to let him work on the car with me today. I figured he'd want to blow off steam after whatever bullshit his brother threw out at him this time round."

"You think his brother would want to hurt him?" Alex asked. Lewis shrugged.

"Sure, if the son of a bitch thought it was the best way to get what he wanted. He never cared about Bobby. If he did, he wouldn't have walked out on him when Bobby was just a kid, like their old man did to all of them."

"Is that the only reason that Bobby doesn't like him?" Alex wondered. Lewis hesitated, then sat back down again with a soft thud.

"There's that… and don't get me wrong, that hurt Bobby a hell of a lot, but I think one of the things that really stung with Bobby were all the opportunities his brother was handed, then wasted. You might find this hard to believe, Alex, but Bobby really struggled in high school. He might have quit the basketball team himself, but the truth is if he hadn't quit he would've been dropped from the team anyway, 'cause his grades were so bad."

Alex stared at Lewis in disbelief.

"But… He's so smart…"

He smiled sadly.

"I know. He was always smart, but back then he was taking care of his sick mom, and that was a full-time job in itself. He hardly ever had time to study, or do anything he wanted to do. So it really burned him that Richie got himself a scholarship, and then wasted it. Ever since Bobby got his discharge from the army, Richie keeps popping up and causing him problems. Sometimes little problems… Sometimes big. If Richie had a big problem this time, and Bobby said no, then yeah, I can see Richie getting violent. He has before."

Alex did a double-take.

"With Bobby?"

"Hell, yeah. You think Bobby's a big guy? You ought to see his brother. Richie comes in at about six foot seven. He's a huge guy, Alex, and he drinks, _a lot_. Last time… Yeah, it was about five years ago, just before Bobby finished up at Narcotics. That's the other thing, Richie likes his dope. He's not a hard core user… At least, he wasn't back then. But he liked it all the same. When he showed up, it was the first time in four years. He got wind that his little brother was a Narc, and he thought he could get some free drugs out of it. Bobby told him no, of course… And Richie went nuts at him. I had to take Bobby to the hospital later on 'cause he was so badly cut up."

"Richie stabbed him?" Alex asked in shock, and Lewis nodded.

"Oh yeah, about five times before Bobby got him off him. I think his captain got wind of it, wanted him to press charges, but he wouldn't. Anyway, Richie did a disappearing act after that, and Bobby hadn't seen him again, until now."

Alex sat back, her mind awhirl. While she'd suspected that Lewis would know more than she did about Bobby's tenuous relationship with his older brother, this was more than she'd anticipated. It also solidified in her mind Richard Goren's viability as a suspect in his brother's assault.

"Do you know if he's going to be all right?"

Alex found herself catapulted roughly back into the present. She looked sideways at him, and had to struggle not to cringe at the anxiety on his face.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I just don't know."

* * *

_tbc..._


	4. Disclosures

_SVU Headquarters_

Olivia and Elliot arrived back at SVU to find Fin and Munch already there, waiting for them in Cragen's office. They joined them, acutely aware of the sombre atmosphere that seemed to be blanketing the entire bullpen.

"What's going on out there?" Elliot wondered. "Somebody die?"

Cragen motioned for them both to sit down.

"Word spreads fast when a cop gets hurt. Especially when it's a high profile cop like Bobby Goren, and especially when the circumstances are what they are. Now, I just had a call from Jim Deakins not too long ago."

"That didn't take long," Elliot muttered sourly. "We only talked to him in the hospital about an hour ago."

"He wants results, Elliot, and so do I," Cragen said firmly. "Now, this shit is going to hit the Press, and when it does, I for one would like to have some answers to give."

"Well, we just came from CSU," Olivia said wearily. "They're still going through everything, it's going to take a bit of time. The best evidence they've probably got is Goren himself, but they can't do anything there until he comes out of surgery, and none of us know how long that will be. Until then, they have clothes that they believe he was wearing when he was attacked… plus a few things that we think were used as weapons. Fireplace poker… steak knife from his kitchen… and there was a half-empty container of salt on the floor in his bedroom."

Cragen was silent for a moment before speaking again.

"He was tortured?"

"It looks like it," Elliot confirmed. "Over a prolonged period, too. We're guessing he was gagged the whole time…"

"He had a pretty big piece of material stuffed into his mouth," Olivia explained. "The paramedics missed it when they got there. They took off a piece of material that was wrapped around his mouth, but they didn't realise there was something _inside_ his mouth. He wouldn't have been able to make a sound, Captain. Whoever attacked him would have been able to do whatever they liked, and take all the time they liked."

"Tell me straight," Cragen said quietly. "Your honest opinion… What are his chances?"

Elliot glanced at Olivia before speaking.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?" Fin asked, frowning.

"On whether you're meaning will he live and make a full physical and mental recovery… or will he just live."

"It's really that bad?" Munch asked, and both Elliot and Olivia nodded.

"It's that bad," Olivia confirmed. "We've seen some god-awful things, but this definitely rates up there with the worst of it. He actually went into cardiac arrest in the ambulance on the way to St Clare's. They managed to revive him, but from what we heard, it took some time. If he goes into arrest again, they may not be able to revive him again."

"And then there's the head trauma," Elliot added.

"Blow to the head?" Cragen asked.

"Yeah, but that's not what I mean. His eyes were burned, Captain. Someone used the poker from his fireplace, and burned his eyes."

Cragen moaned softly.

"Okay… Let's try and focus, people. Fin, Munch, what have you got?"

"Not a lot," Fin admitted. "We talked to the neighbours on both sides of Goren's apartment. They all had pretty much the same story to tell. Everything was quiet until a bit before midnight, and then all hell broke loose and for about twenty minutes or so. They could hear the sound of furniture literally being thrown around the apartment. Then it all went quiet again and no one heard anything more until this evening when one of his neighbours found him. None of them bothered calling the cops about the disturbance last night before they all figured Goren was a cop, and he could handle it."

"And if they'd called, help would have reached him a lot sooner," Cragen said ruefully, "and he might not be fighting for his life right now."

"Don't worry," Fin said. "They're all feeling pretty guilty right about now."

"Munch," Cragen said, "what about you? Do you have anything to add?"

"I talked to the Super," Munch said. "He gave me the tapes from the security cameras outside and inside the building. I'll look at them when we're done here."

"And what about you two?" Cragen asked Olivia and Elliot.

"Apparently Goren was expecting a visit from his older brother last night," Elliot said. "And if what his neighbour Mrs Pirelli said was true, they're not exactly best buddies."

"Are you kidding?" Olivia asked incredulously. "What was it she called the brother? A lousy piece of filth?"

Elliot nodded, then explained to Cragen. "Apparently this brother only ever shows up on Goren's doorstep when he's in trouble, and wants Goren's help to get out of it."

"We don't know yet if anything was actually taken from the apartment," Olivia went on, "but we called Casey Novak before we left the apartment and got a warrant to run a check on Goren's credit cards. If any of them were taken and are used, we'll be notified immediately."

"Okay," Cragen murmured. "Good work, people. Now, get out there, and find this brother of his. And for God's sake, be careful. Anyone who's capable of taking down a guy like Goren is not someone you want to be underestimating."

* * *

"You really think his brother could be responsible?" Munch wondered as they left Cragen's office. Olivia shrugged.

"We've seen family members do as bad as this to each other, sometimes even worse. Nothing's out of the realm of possibility."

Munch grunted.

"I just find it hard to imagine anyone taking Goren down without shooting him first."

"Unless he was drugged," Fin pointed out. Elliot nodded.

"It's a possibility. The paramedics took blood samples that we took to CSU, and they're running tests on those samples now. If he was drugged, we'll know soon enough."

"Well, if you need me, I'll be in the video room," Munch said, scooping half a dozen surveillance tapes off his desk.

"Enjoy," Elliot called after him. Then, to Fin, "Does he even know what he's looking for?"

"We think so," Fin said. "We had a thorough look through Goren's place after you guys left to go to the hospital. We found a photo album that had a picture of him with his brother. Just the one, but at least we know what the guy looks like."

"You got it with you?" Elliot asked, and Fin pulled a photo out of his jacket and handed it to Elliot.

"Wow," Elliot said finally. "And I thought Goren was a big guy. When we find this guy, we'd better make sure we have back-up. If he was willing to beat the crap out his own brother, he probably won't think twice about turning on any other cops."

"We'll get him," Fin said confidently.

"We have to," Olivia agreed. "For his own sake. You guys saw the mood in here. Imagine what it's like up at Major Case. If we don't bring in Goren's brother, someone else will probably do it for us, by way of a bullet to the head."

"We don't even know where to start looking for this mutt," Elliot pointed out.

"Maybe we do," Fin said as he was handed a faxed sheet from a passing officer. "Looks like big brother helped himself to at least one of little brother's credit cards. We got a hit on a Visa card registered to Goren. It was used to check in at the Hilton about an hour ago."

"The stupidity of criminals never ceases to amaze me," Olivia said ruefully. "The idiot doesn't even bother to get out of New York before using a stolen card."

Elliot looked grim as he grabbed his coat, and handed Olivia hers.

"Okay. Let's go pick him up."

* * *

It was, Alex decided before long, quite possibly the most awful wait she had ever had to endure. Despite her promise to Deakins to get some sleep, she found that sleep wouldn't come. Lewis, on the other hand, had fallen asleep within an hour of arriving.

She looked at him now, envious of the ease with which he gave in to sleep. She wanted to sleep, she really did. But her mind would not give in, not until she knew for sure… one way or the other.

It had been over four hours now since Bobby had been taken into surgery, pushing on towards five, and still there was no word. She was trying desperately to stay positive about that. At the very least, no word meant he was still alive. And yet, her thoughts went unwittingly back to the sight of him chained and handcuffed to his own bed. The sight of him naked, and beaten almost to death. The sight of him on that gurney as the medics brought him out of his apartment. The sight of him as his body convulsed violently in the ambulance, and went into cardiac arrest.

She wiped away fresh tears. She wanted to see him, wanted to see with her own eyes that he was still alive. It wasn't enough to simply be told. She wanted to reach out and touch him with her own hands, and feel his still-warm skin. Until she could do those things, she would not be able to rest easy. She would not be able to rest at all.

Curled up in one of the armchairs, Lewis stirred and whimpered softly in his sleep. His hands tightened into fists, and a faint moan escaped his lips. Alex watched sympathetically. Lewis might have had no trouble falling asleep, but clearly he was not experiencing a dream free rest, either.

Alex slumped back into the soft sofa, resting her head back and staring up at the ceiling. This was a favourite pose of Bobby's. She often saw him lying back in his chair in the Major Case bullpen. In fact, she'd frequently wondered how he managed to avoid falling over backwards. She'd warned him once, early on in their partnership, that if he tumbled out of his chair and injured himself through being an idiot, not to expect her sympathy. He'd just smiled and said nothing.

She learnt since that he had an impeccable sense of balance, something that was surprising in someone of his stature.

Alex sighed faintly, and tried to tell herself once again that Bobby's injuries would turn out to be nowhere near as bad as it had all looked, and that he would be fine. But even as she told herself that, she couldn't bring herself to truly believe it. If nothing else, the sight of his eyes, severely burned and sealed shut by whatever implement of torture his attacker had used, warned her against hoping for too much.

She shut her eyes, feeling tired and frightened, and hurting more deeply than she had ever imagined was possible. Right then, the most she could bring herself to hope for was that he would live. Beyond that, she just didn't know.

* * *

"Detective Eames?"

Alex awoke with a start to find herself staring up into an unfamiliar face. It took her a moment to process her surroundings before everything came back to her with a horrible crash, and she remembered where she was and why.

"I guess I fell asleep after all," she mumbled, pushing herself up a little. The woman offered her a small smile.

"That can only be a good thing."

She looked up at the woman questioningly.

"I'm sorry… You are…?"

"I'm Doctor Jennifer Craig. I'm one of the three doctors that were assigned to your partner, Robert."

That snapped Alex very abruptly back into awareness.

"Is he… Is he going to be all right?"

"He came through the surgery," Craig reassured her softly. "We have every reason to believe he's going to live. Look, perhaps you'd like to come with me? We can let your friend sleep."

Alex looked past her to where Lewis still slept soundly. A selfish part of her wanted to agree with the doctor's suggestion, but she knew how hurt she would feel if she were the one left sleeping.

"No, let me wake him up. He's Bobby's best friend, he'll want to know."

"Technically, it should be family that I speak to," Craig pointed out. Alex paused in reaching out to wake Lewis up.

"Bobby's only family are his mother and brother. His mother is a permanent resident at Carmel Ridge, and his brother is the prime suspect for the assault. We _are_ his family, Dr Craig."

She reached out and gently shook Lewis' shoulder. He awoke with a start, looking around in dazed confusion.

"Wha…?"

"Doctor's here," Alex murmured. "Bobby came through surgery."

"Thank God," Lewis muttered. He pushed himself forward in the seat, running his fingers through his mussed up hair in a pointless attempt to flatten it down. "So, he's going to be okay then?"

Dr Craig was silent for a long moment, considering her next words with care.

"I didn't say that. I only said he was going to live."

Alex felt her stomach turn unpleasantly and, going by the look on Lewis's face, she guessed he'd just experienced a similar sensation.

"Please," Craig murmured, indicating the sofa. "Have a seat, Detective Eames."

Alex, however, straightened up.

"I want to see him."

Craig nodded. "I understand, and I will take you to see him, but there are some things you need to hear first."

Alex sat, albeit with extreme reluctance, dreading what the doctor had to say.

"Okay," Craig murmured. "Now, once we managed to clean him up a little, it turned out that most of Robert's wounds were only superficial…"

"Superficial?" Alex cut her off incredulously. "I saw him, Dr Craig. None of what had been done to him looked superficial to me."

"Nevertheless, ninety percent of his injuries did turn out to be just that. Unfortunately, the other ten percent is what caused us to nearly lose him, firstly in the ambulance and secondly during surgery. I won't go into details now, but you need to be aware that his condition is still considered critical, and probably will continue to be critical for several days, at the very minimum. What I'm trying to say is that when I take you in to see him, don't expect him to be awake, or responsive. It's entirely possible that he may not regain conscious for another twenty-four hours or more."

"Please," Lewis said quietly, at the same time watching Alex out of the corner of his eye. "We just want to see him."

Craig nodded and finally stood up. Alex and Lewis quickly followed suit.

"All right," she conceded. "Come with me, I'll take you both to ICU."

* * *

"Both of his legs were broken, weren't they?" Alex asked as they walked. Dr Craig glanced back at her.

"We thought so, too, when he first came in, but no. There is a minor fracture in the right fibula, and his left patella is cracked, but there's no worse breaks than that in his legs. The bruising made it look much worse than it really was."

Alex bit lightly on her lower lip. She was loathed to ask, but she also knew there was no point in deluding herself.

"And his hands…?"

Dr Craig hesitated in answering, just long enough to set Alex's nerves back on edge.

"His hands are a different story. The right isn't too bad, but his left hand…"

"What about his left hand?" Lewis asked tensely.

"Every bone in his left hand was broken," Dr Craig told them quietly. Alex heard someone give a low moan, and it took her a moment to realise the sound was coming from her own lips. Whoever was responsible for the attack, whether it was Bobby's brother or someone else, it didn't get more personal than this. Someone had deliberately set out to hurt Bobby as much as possible, in every way imaginable.

Dr Craig came to a halt outside ICU, and looked back pointedly at the two of them.

"I know you saw him before he was brought to hospital, Detective Eames, but I suggest you brace yourself regardless. This is still going to be a tremendous shock to the system."

"Hey, how bad can it be?" Lewis asked with an uneasy laugh. He was silenced abruptly by the look Alex gave him.

"Worse than you can imagine," she said softly, following Dr Craig into ICU.

"Aw, fuck…"

Alex heard Lewis' soft curse, but chose to ignore him, at least for the moment. Slowly, she walked over to the bedside, manoeuvring carefully through the myriads of equipment that surrounded the bed. She had braced herself, just as the doctor had advised, but in all truth she didn't find the sight of him now anywhere near as distressing as when she'd forced her way into Bobby's bedroom hours ago.

She reached out with trembling fingers to gently touch his right cheek, one of the very few places on his body that didn't seem to be bruised or cut. His skin was warm, and the feel of it – the feel of life within him – sent a tremendous, shuddering sob through her. Yes, he was still alive, and still fighting.

"I have to call Captain Deakins," she said finally, but mad no effort to move.

"It's all right, Detective Eames," Dr Craig assured her. "One of the other surgeons has already called him. I expect he'll be here soon. But would you know of any family of Robert's that I could contact?"

Alex looked around at her, exhaustion resulting in a considerably shorter fuse on her temper.

"I told you. The only family he has is his mother and brother, and there's no point trying to call either one. We're really the only family he has."

Um, that's not strictly true," Lewis said, drawing the attention of both Alex and Dr Craig.

"You mean there is other family?" Dr Craig asked, and Lewis nodded.

"Yeah. He's got a cousin, on his father's side. They used to be pretty close, but I think they lost touch when Bobby went to Germany."

"Would you know how we can get in contact with this cousin?" Dr Craig asked. "My main reason for asking is because we need a family member to make decisions on Robert's behalf, at least until he's able to make them for himself."

Lewis nodded again.

"Um, yeah. His name is Danny Cooper. He lives in DC. I can get you his number."

"Thankyou," Dr Craig said appreciatively. "I have a few other patients to check in on now, but you're both welcome to stay here, at least for a while."

Lewis nodded distractedly, while Alex didn't respond at all. Dr Craig made no further attempts to communicate with any of them, instead leaving the room in silence.

"Man, look at him," Lewis said finally in dismay. "Did he look this… you know, this… _bad_ earlier?"

"No, it was worse," Alex said quietly, truthfully. Lewis shuddered.

"I don't see how."

Alex looked up at him slowly.

"He was handcuffed to his own bed, Lewis. Handcuffed at the wrists and chained at the ankles. Another hour or so, and he wouldn't have made it to hospital. So yes, it was worse."

Lewis grimaced.

"I… I'm sorry. It's just, I've never seen anything like this before."

Alex shut her eyes for a moment in an effort to calm herself. Taking her anger out on Lewis would get her nowhere fast.

"I'm sorry," she apologised quietly. "This whole situation is just such a shock to the system."

Lewis watched her for a while before speaking again, changing the subject.

"I… I guess Bobby never mentioned his cousin to you."

"No," Alex answered woodenly. "He never said anything to me about him."

She was trying desperately not to feel offended, but she had honestly thought that she knew pretty much everything there was to know about Bobby's family. Clearly, she was wrong.

"I'm sure there's a reason he never mentioned him," Lewis stammered. "I… I mean… His family has always been a pretty sensitive subject."

Alex found her thoughts unwittingly going back to the Nicole Wallace cases, and the way that bitch of a woman had twisted Bobby so painfully around her little finger, using the subject of his family to shove the proverbial daggers in good and hard.

"I know that, Lewis," she said softly, forcing those unpleasant memories out of her mind. "When did you meet his cousin?"

Her question was met with a long silence, and she was about to look at him when he spoke nervously.

"The, uh… The thing is… I've never actually… You know… _met_ Danny."

She did look at him, then.

"So Bobby's just talked to you about him?"

To her quiet amusement, Lewis went red.

"A couple of times… But it was kind of under duress."

Alex raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Lewis finally conceded.

"Okay. Look, I happened to overhear Bobby on the phone to him once, and I bugged him until he told me who it was. It took a bit longer to get the rest of the story out of him."

"And what's the rest of the story?"

"Well… You know about Bobby's mom and dad. And about how his dad walked out on the family when Bobby was twelve?"

Alex nodded wordlessly, feeling a fresh surge of anger at the now-deceased father of her partner.

"Well," Lewis went on, "did you know that Bobby's mom had a tendency to get violent?"

Alex didn't respond to that. The truth was, it was something she had long suspected, but she had never found the right moment to broach the subject with her partner. Standing beside her now, Lewis gave a short, bitter chuckle.

"You guessed, didn't you? He's never said so, but you guessed anyway. I guess that shield he puts up to protect himself isn't so all-powerful after all."

"What happened, Lewis?" she asked tersely. She felt like a rat, pressing Lewis for details about something that was clearly very personal and private to Bobby while he lay unconscious right in front of them, but if this so-called cousin was to turn up, she wanted to have some idea about his relationship with Bobby.

"Okay, sorry. Anyway, it happened not long after his dad left, and his asshole brother left to take up his scholarship. Bobby's mom had another episode, a really bad one. I don't know exactly what happened. To this day, Bobby still won't talk about it. All I know is that he turned up on our doorstep sometime after midnight covered in his own blood and saying that his mom needed help."

"You mean you knew Bobby back then?" Alex asked, startled. "Back when you were kids?"

"Yeah. We weren't best friends then, mainly because he was nearly something like six or seven years older than me, but yeah. We knew each other. Anyway, my folks took one look at him, and they freaked out. They called the cops, told them Bobby's mom had tried to kill him, or something like that. When they got there, the cops organised for Bobby's mom to go to a psychiatric hospital, and they called Bobby's aunt and uncle to come get him. He spent the next eighteen months with them while his mom was in and out of hospital.

"The point is, Danny is Bobby's older cousin, and he really took care of Bobby. Even after Bobby eventually went home to his mom, Danny still looked out for him."

"So they were pretty close," Alex murmured. Lewis nodded.

"Yeah, they were tight."

"You think he'll come?" she wondered.

"I think so," Lewis said. "I hope so. It'd be good for Bobby if Danny comes. But I tell you, Alex, when Danny finds out that Richie might be responsible for this, he'll want to kill him himself."

Alex stared down at her partner's battered features, and fresh tears stung her eyes.

"He'll have to get in line."

* * *

_tbc..._


	5. Interrogations

_A/N_: My apologies for the gap between updates. I know I'd promised to try and post regular updates, but that was before I took a tumble down half a dozen concrete steps and landed on my face. I've spent the last week recuperating, and have only just been able to sit at a computer again over the last couple of days. I'm afraid I haven't been able to do much else yet on Remembrance, but here is a reasonably long chunk of this sordid little tale to chew on...

_

* * *

_

_Hilton Hotel,  
__Manhattan_

Elliot and Olivia went into the hotel ahead of Fin and Munch and the two uniforms they'd brought with them, and made a beeline straight for the concierge, who seemed less than concerned to be confronted by two gold police shields.

"Can I help you, Detectives?" he asked smoothly.

"We hope so," Elliot said. "Can you tell us if you had someone check in under the name of Robert Goren about an hour or so ago?"

At the mention of Bobby's name, the concierge frowned darkly.

"I can answer that question without having to look it up on the computers. Yes, we had a… _gentleman_ check in here not that long ago. Ordinarily someone in his state would have been turned away, but he _was_ a police officer."

Elliot and Olivia glanced at each other.

"He had police ID?"

"No photographic identification, but he had a police shield, similar to yours. And his credit card was good. He checked into a suite on the fourteenth floor. Is there a problem?"

He sounded almost hopeful.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Elliot said. "The real Detective Robert Goren is in hospital right at the moment, after being assaulted. We believe that the man who checked in here using Detective Goren's ID and credit card may be responsible for that assault. We're here to arrest him." He produced the photo of Bobby and his older brother, and showed it to the concierge. "Is the man who checked in earlier in this photo?"

The concierge looked carefully at the photo, then pointed decisively to the image of Richard Goren.

"That's him."

Elliot nodded, satisfied.

"Thankyou, that's all we need to hear."

The relief on the concierge's face was second only to his obvious disgust that someone would have the gall to assault a police officer, and steal his official credentials. He stepped away from his desk, producing a master key from within the confines of his jacket.

"Shall I show you to the suite, Detectives?"

* * *

Minutes later, four SVU detectives and two uniformed officers stood outside the door to the suite, waiting on either side while the concierge rapped on the door. Elliot then urged him out of the way. There was the sound of someone shuffling their way over to the door, and a moment later it swung open.

Fin and Munch stepped in, guns drawn, identifying themselves as police to the startled man inside even as they dragged him out into the hallway and forced him none-too-gently to the floor.

"Richard Goren, you're under arrest for credit card theft, and for impersonating a police officer," Elliot said loudly, and began to read him his rights as Fin cuffed his hands behind his back.

"I didn't steal any credit cards!" Richard whined, his slurred voice telling them he'd been well on the way to getting shit-faced when they'd interrupted him. "My brother gave me his card to use, I swear!"

"Did he give you his police shield too, asshole?" Munch snapped.

"I didn't steal anything from him," Richard moaned. "Honest! He's my brother, why would I steal from my own brother?"

"I can think of a half dozen reasons straight off," Elliot said flatly.

"We'd be happy to ask him directly," Olivia put in, "but it's kind of hard to do that when he's currently unconscious in hospital after getting the crap beaten out of him."

There was a long silence, and then Richard spoke in a shaky voice that held more than a touch of fear.

"He… You mean… He's not dead?"

The four detectives exchanged disturbed looks. In his intoxicated state, Bobby's big brother obviously didn't realise just how big a hole he was digging for himself. On the basis of that sentence alone, he was suddenly looking at an attempted murder charge on top of the assault and theft charges that he was already facing.

"Wrong response, scumbag," Munch snarled as he and Fin hauled their suspect roughly to his feet. "You should have said something like. 'What do you mean, he's in hospital?' Let's go."

* * *

Deakins arrived at the ICU ward to find Alex alone with Bobby, sitting by his side and slumped over with her head resting on the edge of the bed and her hand closed over his right forearm. He stood indecisively in the doorway for a long minute before walking in and laying his hand gently on her shoulder. She started awake, looking up dazedly for a moment before her vision focused on him. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"How are you feeling, Alex?"

She leaned back, shuddering a little as she stretched.

"Tired."

"I thought you were going to call your brother."

There was a chiding tone to his voice that she couldn't miss, but she was too weary to care.

"I was, but then I thought of someone else. You remember Bobby's friend, Lewis?"

"The car buff with a crush on you?"

Again, she was too tired to be embarrassed.

"That's the one. I thought he deserved to know. He's one of Bobby's best friends. Apparently they've known each other a long time."

"Where is he?"

"He went to get coffee and some fresh air."

"You should have gone too."

"I didn't want to. I know they said he's not going to wake up for a day or two, but what if he does? I don't want him to wake up, and for there to be no one here to talk to him. He won't be able to see anything… He'll probably be scared, and hurting. I just don't want to leave him alone."

Deakins sighed inaudibly.

"It's okay, Alex. I understand."

Alex was silent for a moment before speaking again.

"Lewis had a few interesting things to say about Bobby's brother."

"Such as?"

"He said that Richard would definitely try to hurt Bobby if he thought it would get him what he wanted. And he also said that Richard once attacked him with a knife, when Bobby was still with Narcotics, because he refused to help Richard get drugs."

"I heard rumours about that," Deakins murmured as he pulled a chair over to sit beside Alex. "I didn't realise it was Bobby, but I heard rumours that a Narc was attacked by a family member who was after drugs. Word is he refused to press charges."

"That's what Lewis said."

Deakins sighed. "It's a shame that he didn't. Maybe if he'd shown a bit of tough love back then, he might not be in this state now." He paused, then went on quietly. "I got a call from Don Cragen on my way over here. His people arrested Richard Goren a short while ago. He'd checked himself into a hotel using one of Bobby's credit cards. He also had Bobby's detective shield on him. Apparently he used it to stop anyone from asking too many questions."

Alex scowled.

"Son of a bitch. Has he said anything yet?"

"They're trying to sober him up before they can question him. Apparently he was more than three sheets to the wind when they picked him up."

"Great," Alex muttered. "He tries to kill Bobby, steals his credit card and badge, and then runs up a huge bill in booze and hotel rooms. Like Bobby doesn't have enough to worry about."

"None of that will come back on him, Alex," Deakins assured her. "Cragen said he was contacted by the manager of the hotel shortly after the brother was arrested. All the hotel charges to Bobby's credit card that Richard ran up are going to be cleared, and a substantial donation was offered towards to cost of hospital care for him. It turns out the manager knew Bobby from when he was in Narcotics. Apparently Bobby got his son out of a bad cycle of substance abuse. As soon as he heard about what had happened from the hotel concierge, he couldn't make an offer to help fast enough. Bobby will be looked after properly, Alex. Whatever happens, I promise that."

Alex contemplated that in silence. The idea that Bobby would have to be 'looked after' in any way at all seemed horribly unnatural to her. Deciding she couldn't stomach that thought, at least not yet, she quickly changed the subject.

"Did you know Bobby has a cousin in DC?"

Deakins couldn't contain his surprise.

"I thought his only living family were his mother and brother. Who is this cousin?"

"Lewis knew about him. His name is Danny Cooper, and apparently he's Bobby's cousin on his father's side. The hospital is going to try and contact him. They… They said they needed a family member to be able to make decisions for him."

Deakins nodded.

"The doctor I spoke to over the phone said much the same thing, and that if a family member couldn't be located, then the responsibility for any decision-making would probably fall to me. I suppose we just have to wait and see if this mystery cousin decides to turn up."

"Lewis said Danny and Bobby were close, but that they lost touch with each other when Bobby went to Germany."

"I hope he'll come," Deakins murmured. "He's going to need all the support he can get when he wakes up, and it's going to hurt like hell, knowing his brother had a hand in this."

Alex looked away, trying unsuccessfully to hide the tears that forced their way, unrelenting, out of her eyes.

"What is it?" Deakins asked softly. She shut her eyes, bringing one hand up to cover her mouth as she struggled to contain her sobs. She felt a hand alight gently on her shoulder, warm and caring, and that was that. The floodgates opened and she virtually collapsed in the chair, crying helplessly. A moment later, she was aware of a strong pair of arms around her shoulders, gently turning her around and pulling her in close. She felt her head being gently drawn in against her captain's shoulder, and heard his voice murmuring to her to just let it go.

"How could he?" she choked out, repeating the words of Bobby's neighbour, Mrs Pirelli. "How could he do this to him? His own brother…"

"Let's just wait and see what SVU come up with," Deakins murmured, though he found he had work hard to suppress his own anger at Bobby's brother. "It might be that all he did was steal Bobby's credit card and shield. Someone else may have come along later and attacked him. He might not have anything to do with the assault at all."

Alex pulled back slowly, rubbing miserably at her eyes.

"You don't believe that anymore than I do."

Deakins tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"Let's just wait and see, okay? And besides, we have no way of knowing what Bobby will be able to tell us when he does wake up. He might be able to name someone completely different to his brother as being responsible."

She looked over at her partner, taking in his bruised and battered features once more with a heavy heart.

"Part of me hopes he doesn't remember any of it, but then if he doesn't remember, it might just make it worse for him. What am I going to do when he starts asking questions?"

Deakins looked sadly across at Bobby.

"Tell him the truth, Alex. That's the best we can do. We won't be doing him any favours trying to keep anything from him. You know what he's like. He'll probably have a better understanding of the situation he's in than any of us."

Alex reached out and gently closed her hand once more over his right forearm. She desperately wanted to take his hand in her own, but that was impossible with both of his hands being broken.

"He's going to be completely helpless when he wakes up," she said softly. "He's going to hate it. He'll hate having to be taken care of."

"He's not going to have a choice," Deakins said wryly, though the same thought had crossed his mind as well. He knew damn well that Bobby was going to react badly to having to be looked after like a helpless child, but the bottom line was that he really wasn't going to have a choice. Whether he liked it or not, that was the way it was going to have to be. All they could hope for was that the situation wouldn't last.

"What if the damage is permanent?" Alex asked tentatively. "To his eyes, I mean?"

Deakins grimaced, unable to stop himself. He understood her fears. He harboured the same fear himself, but the grim truth was that if Bobby's vision was permanently impaired, it would effectively end his career with the NYPD.

"Early retirement on a disability pension," Deakins said, not at all liking the look Alex gave him.

"He'd rather die than have to retire on a disability."

"He'd hate it more to be stuck behind a desk until he hits retirement age, especially if it's only out of pity. But we're jumping the gun here, Alex. Let's not start making assumptions ahead of time? Nothing's certain yet."

She sighed faintly.

"Right. Nothing's certain."

He heard the grim inflection in her tone, but opted not to go on about it. He was about to suggest – or order, if merely suggesting didn't work – that she go with him to get coffee, when movement behind them alerted them to Lewis' return.

"Oh, hey… Captain Deakins, isn't it?" Lewis asked, and Deakins nodded, rising out of his chair to shake hands with the younger man.

"Nice to meet you officially, Lewis. Thankyou for coming."

Lewis shrugged a little as he wandered around to the other side of the bed, and sank into the last empty chair.

"Bobby's my friend. I had to be here."

Deakins looked wordlessly from Lewis to Alex, reflecting sadly that, not counting his actual biological family, this small gathering really was the total sum of Bobby's family. Sure, the other Major Case detectives would make a strong show of support once word spread about what had happened, but none of them really cared all that much for the quirky detective. On more than one occasion, Deakins had overheard Bobby referred to as 'the freak', or worse, and though it seriously galled him to hear it, there was little he could do about it.

So even though the support would be there in general, the support and encouragement that was going to help Bobby survive this was right there in the room with him, right at that moment. It was a daunting notion, but there it was. Deakins knew, deep in his heart, that ultimately it would up to the three of them to see Bobby safely though.

He almost laughed, just managing to choke it back at the last moment. 'Safely' was no longer a practical consideration, not when they were sitting here, watching a man who had literally come within a hair's breadth of dying from a beating so brutal…

He forced that thought from his mind. If he allowed himself to dwell on that for too long, it would lead to other disturbing and frightening thoughts. Such as the reason SVU had been called in the first place…

"Excuse me…"

They all looked to see Dr Craig in the doorway. She offered the three of them a small smile before focusing her attention on Deakins.

"Captain Deakins, is it…?"

He nodded.

"Yes, that's right."

"I'm Dr Craig. Could I have a word with you, please? Privately."

Sparing Alex and Lewis a concerned look, Deakins got up and followed Dr Craig out of the room.

* * *

Deakins couldn't help but feel uneasy when the doctor led him right away from Bobby's room, and finally into an empty room, closing the door behind them.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I just don't want anyone else listening in on this. Especially not Detective Eames, or that other friend of Robert's."

"What did you want to say, Doctor?"

He didn't mean to snap, but his patience was already frayed from stress and worry. Dr Craig went on quietly.

"You're aware that when Robert was brought in, he was in cardiac arrest."

Deakins nodded. "Yes, I know."

"Well, our primary concern at that point was to revive him, and keep him alive. We put all other concerns aside while we focused on that. Once we knew we weren't going to lose him, then we were able to shift our focus to other issues. I'm going to put this plainly, Captain Deakins, because there is no easy way to say it. We conducted a rape kit, as per a request from the NYPD's Special Victim's Unit. I believe they're running the investigation?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Well, it came back positive, Captain Deakins."

An ice-cold wave of near panic swept down through Deakins' body. As much as he knew he should have expected it, the shock to his system was still almost more than he could stomach.

"There's… no doubt?"

"None," Dr Craig confirmed. "We found seminal fluid, along with other signs indicative of rape."

Deakins turned away, at a loss for what to say and do.

"It's not all bad news, though," she added. "There is a chance that his vision might not be permanently impaired."

He looked back at her questioningly.

"But his eyes were badly burned, weren't they?"

"Yes, but the burns are on the eyelids, not on the eyeballs. It's going to take time, but there's a good chance that the damage can be repaired."

"That's something, at least," Deakins conceded heavily, though he could not bring himself to feel any real joy in the positive news in light of the other revelation. Dr Craig watched him silently for a long moment before speaking again.

"He's going to recover, Captain Deakins. Physically, he will recover from this. Now, I've had a lot of rape victims in my care over the years, and I can say with fair certainty that those who have continued support from family and friends are the ones who stand the best chance of recovering emotionally. From what I've seen, Robert has that support in you, Detective Eames and his friend Lewis. I think he'll be all right. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. It won't, not by a long shot. But I think he's going to survive this. You all will."

Deakins listened silently to the doctor's words. He wanted desperately to believe it, and ordinarily he might have been able to, but she didn't know Bobby Goren. He did, and that was what worried him.

Bobby's inclination to psychoanalyse himself was going to go against him, for starters. But more so than anything else, he feared Bobby's reaction if it turned out that his brother really was responsible for the horrific assault; or even if he hadn't committed the deed himself, but had somehow facilitated it.

Deakins fought back a shudder. The onus to prove or disprove Richard Goren's direct involvement in the assault on his younger brother was now squarely in the hands of the team from SVU, and their assigned CSIs. For Bobby's sake, Deakins prayed they would find he hadn't been a part of it.

"Was that all you wanted to say, Doctor?" he asked, wanting very much to get back to Bobby's room, and rejoin Alex and Lewis.

"There is one more thing, Captain. Is Robert right or left-handed?"

Deakins felt his stomach sink once more.

"He's left-handed."

Dr Craig sighed softly.

"I was afraid of that. I'm no detective, Captain Deakins, but I think I can say with reasonable confidence that whoever attacked Robert was out to hurt him as much as possible. His right hand is badly broken, but not to the extent of his left hand. Every bone in his left hand was broken. It's still too early to make definite judgments, but right at this moment I have to warn you that he may never regain full use of that hand."

"Thankyou, Doctor," Deakins muttered as he left the room and made his way back to Bobby's room.

* * *

As he made his way along the corridor, he thought miserably that she hadn't known how right she was in her speculation that the attack on Bobby had been deliberate and personal, aimed at hurting him as much as possible. He had been to Bobby's apartment before coming back to the hospital, and he had seen with his own eyes the pile of ash that had been all of Bobby's books. Though the whole apartment had effectively been trashed, it was the loss of his precious books that was going to hurt Bobby the worst. Whoever was responsible had to know that. Such an act of utter and evil destruction was about as personal as it got where Bobby was concerned – almost moreso than the shocking act of rape.

He walked back into Bobby's room to find everything as he had left it. Alex looked up at him, tired and sad.

"What did she want to tell you that she didn't want to say in front of us?"

Deakins hesitated, considering his words. Alex waited just a moment before speaking.

"She confirmed it, didn't she? She confirmed that Bobby was raped."

On the other side of the room, Lewis went rigid and his already pale face drained on what little colour he still had. Deakins sighed heavily and dropped back into the empty chair.

"That was one of the things she had to say, yes. They conducted a rape kit after he came out of surgery. It came back positive. They found seminal fluid."

"CSU have a sample for DNA comparison?"

Alex's voice was flat, emotionless. Deakins knew she was trying to distance herself emotionally from the awful knowledge. Trying, and probably failing, judging by the tears in her eyes.

"I imagine they do," he murmured. "Cragen told me Mack Taylor's team is handling the processing of the forensic evidence. It's all in hand. We don't need to worry about that side of things."

Alex gave a short, gruff laugh, but said nothing.

"That wasn't all the doctor had to say," Deakins went on quietly. "She told me there's a good chance that Bobby will recover his vision. Apparently the burns are on the eyelids, not on the eyes themselves."

"Great," Alex said bitterly. "He'll be able to see what the bastards did to his home… to all his books. They burned his books, Captain. Every single one."

"I know," Deakins murmured. "I saw."

Lewis stared at them, horrified.

"All of his books were destroyed? Oh, man… That'll kill him…"

He trailed off, acutely aware of what he'd just said. Deakins nodded, pointedly ignoring Lewis' faux pas.

"We know how much it will hurt him, Lewis. This whole situation is a nightmare, plain and simple, and I'm still trying to understand how whoever attacked Bobby was able to subdue him. Even if there was more than one attacker, he wouldn't have gone down without a fight."

"CSU will do a tox screen on his blood," Alex said numbly. "If he was drugged, we'll find out soon enough."

"And if he wasn't?" Lewis asked uneasily.

"Then whoever attacked him had to have been someone he knew, and trusted," Deakins said quietly.

"Oh god, I hope not," Lewis moaned.

"So do we," Deakins murmured in agreement. "So do we."

* * *

_SVU Headquarters_

"We've got the tox screens back," Munch announced as he strode into the SVU bullpen. "It's positive. Goren was doped up to the eyeballs."

"Well, that partly explains how they got the jump on him," Elliot said as he scrutinised the results. "I don't suppose they know how it was administered?"

"Orally," Munch answered. "CSU found a beer glass with traces of the same drug they found in Goren's system. Only one set of fingerprints on it, though."

"Let me guess," Olivia said. "Goren's?"

"Bingo," Munch confirmed.

"So whoever attacked him knocked him out first?" Fin asked, leaning in to read the tox report over Elliot's shoulder. Munch shook his head.

"According to CSU, going by what was in Goren's bloodstream, it would have left him fully alert, but almost completely paralysed."

"Jesus," Olivia muttered. "So he knew what was going on, he could feel every punch, every kick…"

"But he couldn't do a damned thing to defend himself," Elliot muttered. "Son of a bitch…"

"How's it going with the older brother?" Munch asked.

"Just great," Elliot retorted. "Soon as they son of a bitch sobered up a little, he clammed up and demanded a lawyer. One arrived a little while ago. We were just getting ready to go in. Munch, was there anything else from CSU that we ought to know about?"

"No other definitive results yet," Munch answered. "CSU have just started testing the samples they got from the rape kit. They'll do a comparison against the samples they took from Richard Goren as soon as possible." He paused, grabbing his coat, and Fin did the same. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we're heading back to talk to Goren's Super about why the sprinkler system never kicked in when his books went up in smoke."

* * *

"My client has nothing to say," lawyer Kristen Adams announced flatly as Elliot and Olivia walked in. The two detectives exchanged wry looks. What a big surprise that was.

"Well, then, he can just listen for now," Olivia said as she and Elliot sat opposite their suspect and his lawyer.

"I didn't do anything to Bobby," Richard stammered.

"Be quiet, Richard," Adams instructed him. "You don't have to say anything to them."

"By all means," Elliot said. "Don't say anything. We'll let the evidence do the talking."

Adams threw Elliot a threatening look. "Unless you're in the habit of manufacturing evidence, Detective, then I don't see how you can prove my client was even in the victim's apartment at the time of the assault. No one saw him arrive, or leave, and any fingerprints your CSIs might find are purely circumstantial evidence. He's been inside the victim's apartment before, so naturally his fingerprints are going to be found in there."

Again, Olivia and Elliot traded rueful looks. They hated it when lawyers were on the ball. Elliot got up slowly and wandered over to the wall. Time for Plan B.

"Tell me Richie… You don't mind me calling you Richie, do you? Tell me, are you particularly close to your little brother?"

Richard shifted nervously.

"No. Uh… We're not… not really all that close…"

"Different personalities, huh?" Elliot said. "I get that. Me and my brother? We fight like cats and dogs. Half the time I can't stand to be around the guy. That how it is with you and Bobby?"

"No," Richard mumbled. "I mean… We argue some. We just have different ideas about things. And Bobby… Well, he's a little… you know… He's got a reputation."

"For being a little out there?" Olivia suggested conspiratorially. Richard nodded quickly.

"Yeah, exactly. Just between us? I think he takes after our mom."

"How do you mean?" Elliot asked. A deeper instinct was warning him to back off, that this was not a relevant part of the case but Elliot overrode that concern easily – perhaps a little too easily – by telling himself that he was establishing a rapport with the senior Goren brother.

"She's schizophrenic," Richard explained. "Lives permanently up at Carmel Ridge. You know, that psyche hospital? She's the reason our father walked out on us. She's the reason I cleared out of home as soon as I could. You see, I got myself a scholarship to get away from her craziness, but Bobby hung around to take care of her. I don't know, maybe he thought I was abandoning them too, but I had my life to live. It wasn't my fault if he decided he wanted to stay chained to our sick mom."

"You think he was angry at you over that?" Elliot asked. "That you got away, and he didn't?"

Richard shrugged.

"I don't know. The guy's angry about a lot of stuff. I'm just a convenient target, you know?"

Olivia leaned across the table a little.

"You were there on Saturday night, in his apartment. Weren't you, Richie?"

"You don't have to answer that," Adams advised him quickly. Richard, however, shook his head.

"No, I want to. This is stupid. I'm only getting myself into hot water by not telling everything. Yes, I was there. Okay? I came and saw Bobby on Saturday night. We had a few drinks together. We argued a little, and then I eventually left. That's all."

"What time did you leave?" Elliot asked.

"About eleven," Richard answered after a moment's consideration.

"Eleven," Elliot mused. "Can you prove that?"

"Can you disprove it?" Adams countered.

"Okay," Olivia said, intervening as she sensed her partner's growing irritation. "How about telling us how you ended up with your brother's credit card and detective's shield? And don't try telling us that he gave them to you, because we know he didn't."

"He did, though," Richard started to protest, only to be silenced by a warning look from Olivia.

"Listen to me, Richie," Olivia said sternly, "you're already looking at a charge of impersonating a police officer. Don't make it worse for yourself by lying to us."

Richard looked unhappily from Olivia to his lawyer, and back to Olivia again. He gave in and spoke when there seemed to be no advice forthcoming from his lawyer.

"Okay, I took the card, and the badge. I went through Bobby's wallet when he went to the bathroom. I found his credit cards, and I took one of them. It was his own fault, anyway. The cheap son of a bitch wouldn't even lend me fifty for a bus fare home."

"And the shield?" Elliot pressed.

"Yeah, I took that too," Richard admitted. "I know I didn't exactly look a million bucks, and I figured flashing his badge might at least get me into a decent hotel room."

"And you say that Bobby was fine when you left," Olivia said. Richard nodded furiously.

"Yeah. He was totally okay. He was a little pissed at me, I guess, but he was fine."

Elliot walked over, leaning across the table towards Richard.

"Here's our problem, Richie. When Detective Benson told you that Bobby was unconscious in hospital, you seemed kind of surprised to hear he was still alive."

Richard could only hold Elliot's stare for a few seconds before looking down at the tabletop.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do. Your exact words to us were 'You mean he's not dead'. That's what you said. Now, we have to wonder why you'd say something like that if Bobby really was fine when you left his apartment."

"My client was heavily intoxicated when you arrested him," Adams said coolly. "You can't hold him accountable for anything he said while under the influence of alcohol."

Olivia smiled sweetly at her.

"No? Watch us."

Adams glowered back at her.

"If that's the stance you're going to take, Detective, I'll put an end to this interview right now. So if you want to continue questioning my client, you'll take a pull on the attitude."

Olivia acquiesced with a nod, though the look in her eyes suggested she had no intention of following that directive.

"All right, let me put it another way. Richie, what do you think Bobby is going to tell us when he wakes up? And he _is_ going to wake up."

"So what are you going to do?" Elliot asked. "Are you going to clam up and wait for him to point the finger at you? Or are you going to come clean and tell us what really happened?"

"I didn't hurt him," Richard mumbled, starting to sound hoarse with fear and agitation. "I… I never touched him. I swear I never."

Elliot stared piercingly at him.

"But you know who did, don't you? C'mon, Richie, help yourself out here. You really think Bobby won't finger you for this? How far do you think sibling loyalty goes? His home was trashed, just about everything he owns was destroyed, and he was beaten almost to death and raped!"

Richard's head snapped up, his eyes going wide with genuine shock and horror.

"Raped…? Bobby was raped? No… No way… That's not possible! Oh god…"

Elliot and Olivia exchanged glances. That was the first truly sincere reaction Richard had had since the interview started. It was the first reaction that they believed.

"He's going to pick you for this, Richie," Olivia said firmly. "You know he will as well as we do."

"He wouldn't," Richard stammered. "He… He just wouldn't…"

"Wouldn't he?" Olivia asked. "Are you willing to stake your life on that, Richie? Because that's what you could be facing, life in prison."

"I'll thank you not to jump the gun, Detective," Adams said dryly.

"I'm not," Olivia shot back. "We suspect there was someone else involved in the assault on Bobby Goren, but unless your client is willing to give up that person and come clean about his own involvement, he's looking at being charged with the attempted murder of a police officer. That's a life sentence, with no hope of parole, and we're not even taking into consideration all the other charges Richard is facing."

Adams looked grimly from one detective to the other before speaking.

"I'd like some time alone with my client."

Elliot and Olivia left in silence, making their way around to the observation room where Cragen waited with their ADA, Casey Novak.

* * *

"So what do you think?" Cragen asked. Elliot paused, looking through the viewing glass thoughtfully before answering.

"Well… Compared to his brother, this clown has the IQ of a rock. And he's got form for violence, though admittedly it's not usual for him."

"He's got a modest rap sheet," Olivia explained. "He's better known for straight robbery and trying to con people out of their money, but he did go down for assault in the course of a robbery four years ago. He did the full sentence, just got out of prison a couple of months ago. I suppose he came looking for a hand up from Goren."

"You know, I could see this guy maybe having a hand in the beating," Elliot said quietly, "but his shock when we mentioned rape was too real to be a put-on. I think he had something to do with it, maybe helped facilitate it… Maybe he thought he was helping to set Goren up for a beating, but I don't think he was actually there when it happened. Because he sure as hell didn't know until now that his brother was raped."

"Whether he knew or not, it doesn't matter," Casey said firmly. "If he set Detective Goren up to be attacked, then he's as guilty as the one who actually conducted the assault, and I'll prosecute accordingly."

"Let's just hope that when Goren wakes up he'll be willing to give up his brother to us," Olivia said. "Because I have a horrible feeling that his lawyer is talking him out of saying anything else to us, and the bottom line is that we don't have any hard evidence yet that he did have anything to do with the assault. There's no bruising on his knuckles to suggest he threw any punches, no blood on any of his clothes. Right at the moment, we don't have anything at all besides speculation."

"Well, keep working at him," Cragen told them. "And hopefully when Fin and Munch get back, they'll have more ammunition for you."

"Where are you going?" Casey asked as Cragen headed for the door.

"To the hospital," Cragen answered. "I'll see how Goren's doing, and at the same time I'll talk to Deakins and Eames. Maybe they can give us more of a heads-up on Goren's relationship with his brother."

* * *

Fin and Munch arrived back at Bobby's apartment building to speak to the superintendent, only to be confronted on arrival by a small group of residents.

"Mr Trent, isn't it?" Fin asked, recognising one of the neighbours that he'd spoken to earlier. The man nodded in confirmation.

"That's right. We want to know, what's happening? Is Bobby going to be okay?"

Fin and Munch traded glances.

"All we can tell you is that he came through surgery," Munch said. "Beyond that, we haven't heard anything more."

"And what about his asshole brother? Have you found him yet?"

Once more, Fin and Munch exchanged looks.

"We can't discuss that," Fin said.

"Look," one of the other members of the group said testily, "Bobby's a cop, and we know what cops get like when one of their own goes down. Normally we wouldn't buy into that thin blue line crap, but Bobby's a good guy. Any time any of us had a problem and needed help, he never thought twice about lending a hand. If there's anything at all we can do now to help him, then we'll do it. Just tell us what we can do."

"Right now?" Munch asked. "You can all help right now by going back to your apartments and letting us do our job. Right now that's the best thing any of you can do. Please, just go back to your apartments, and I promise we'll keep you updated on Detective Goren's condition."

Slowly, reluctantly, the group dispersed. Fin and Munch waited until they'd all gone before finally letting their breaths go in a rush.

"Nice neighbours," Fin muttered.

"Oh, yeah," Munch agreed. "Give 'em half a chance, and they'd probably form a lynch mob to hang Goren's brother."

Fin grunted. "Hey, if the asshole had anything at all to do with the attack on Goren, I'd be in half a mind to join the mob."

"Careful," Munch warned him as they came to the door of the Super's apartment. "Those are the kind of thoughts that got Elliot into trouble."

"You gonna tell IA I contemplated lynching the son of a bitch who tried to kill a fellow cop?"

"Not me," Munch said. "Just make sure you keep those pleasant thoughts between us."

Fin smirked, but said nothing as he approached the door and rapped on it hard. Nearly a minute passed, and Fin was about to try again when the door opened.

"Mr Tony Hollis?" Munch asked. "I'm Detective Munch, and this is Detective Tutuola. We'd like to ask you a few questions about the incident that took place in this building last night. Can we come in, please?"

Hollis stepped back, letting them in with obvious reluctance. He showed them through to the living room and waved half-heartedly at the sofa.

"Have a seat, Detectives. Make yourselves comfortable."

"You sound stressed, Mr Hollis," Munch observed. "Any particular reason for that?"

Hollis stared balefully at Munch.

"One of my best tenants is in hospital after getting the crap beaten out of him. The whole damn building is freaking out, and you ask why I'm stressed? Why do you think?"

"I don't suppose you noticed anyone around who shouldn't be around?" Fin asked. "Today, or maybe yesterday?"

"No, I didn't see anyone."

"Okay," Munch said. "Now, do you think you could explain why the sprinkler and fire alert systems in Detective Goren's apartment never activated?"

Hollis stared at Munch blankly.

"You mean there was a fire in there?"

"A controlled one," Fin answered, struggling not to blanch in the face of Hollis' unbelievable performance. "Whoever attacked Detective Goren decided to torch all of his books into the bargain."

"Jesus. Look, I don't know why the sprinkler or the alarms never went off. As far as I know, everything's in working order, but I'm not a fucking fireman."

"You are the building superintendent?" Munch asked.

"Well, yeah, but…"

"Then that makes it your responsibility to know, and to make sure that everything is in working order. Now tell us, if you wanted to shut down the sprinkler and fire alarm systems for just one apartment, could you do that? Or would you have to shut it off for the entire floor?"

Hollis was starting to look thoroughly sick by then.

"You… You'd have to turn it off floor by floor."

"And if we called in a CSU team to check it out right now, what do you think they might find?" Munch wondered. "Your fingerprints all over it, maybe?"

Hollis was pale and sweating by then.

"That doesn't prove anything. Like you said, I'm the Super. It's my business to make sure it's working. Of course my fingerprints would be all over it."

"Like _you_ said," Fin countered softly, "you're not a fucking fireman. And if you really haven't done anything wrong, what are you so damned nervous about?"

Hollis moaned, then, and buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, god… I didn't realise anyone was going to get hurt, I swear! Especially not Bobby Goren. If I'd had any idea, I would have gone straight to the cops. I swear I would have."

"You turned off the sprinkler and fire alarms on Goren's floor, didn't you?" Fin asked.

"Yeah," Hollis admitted, his voice muffled by his hands. "Not just the fire alarms, though. It was all the security alarms, too, for the front entrance and the fourth floor apartments. Door alarms, security cameras, the works. He gave me really specific instructions."

"Who did?" Fin asked with a frown.

"I don't know who he was. He turned up at my door a couple of weeks ago. Told me to make sure I turned everything off for the fourth floor, and the front entrance alarms as well, before ten o'clock on Saturday night, and then to put them all back on before noon on Sunday. He didn't tell me why, and I wasn't game to ask. I wish to God I had known, though. If I'd known the son of a bitch had been out to hurt Bobby, I never would have done it."

"Just how much did you get paid to perform this service?" Munch asked as he began to rifle through his folder. Hollis gave a short, bitter laugh.

"That's just it. I didn't get paid to do it. The guy that came to me? He told me if I didn't do it, he was gonna kill me. And that if I warned anyone, he'd make me wish I'd never been born."

"And you believed him, of course," Munch said dryly.

"Hell, yeah. If you'd seen the look in his eyes, you would've believed him, too. But he didn't just rely on verbal threats. Look at this."

Fin and Munch both looked, and saw what Hollis was indicating. On the side of his neck was a thick wad of surgical gauze.

"He cut you?" asked Fin.

"Yeah. He cut me deep, and he said he'd come back and finish the job if I didn't do what he told me."

Munch finally found what he was searching for – a copy of the photo of Richard Goren that they had taken from Bobby's apartment – and held it out for Hollis to look at.

"Is this who told you to shut down all the alarms?"

"Richard Goren?" Hollis asked in surprise. "No, that's not who came to me. That's Bobby's brother. I know he was here earlier on Saturday night, but I wouldn't have thought he'd have anything to do with what happened. The guy's a jerk, but I can't see him wanting to hurt Bobby. Hell, I can't see him having the balls to try."

Fin and Munch stood up, indicating for Hollis to so the same.

"We're going to ask you to come back to the precinct with us, Mr Hollis," Munch told him. "We'll need you to make a statement, and describe this mystery man to a sketch artist."

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?" Hollis moaned. "I've never been in trouble before."

"Yeah, you are," Fin confirmed.

"But not as much trouble as the assholes that hurt Detective Goren," Munch added. "Not as long as you keep cooperating with us."

"Could you do one thing for me?" Hollis asked as they ushered him into the back of their car. "Please, just one thing? When Bobby wakes up, tell him I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Fin muttered as he closed the car door. "You and everybody else."

* * *

_tbc..._


	6. Awakening

* * *

_9.11 a.m.  
Monday morning  
ICU, St Clare's Hospital_

Alex stood up slowly, and wandered over to the window. It was just after nine thirty on Sunday…? No, Monday morning, she corrected herself tiredly. The last fourteen hours had been such a nightmare that it had totally screwed up her sense of time. Lewis had left a little while ago. He'd been apologetic, but he had a business to run, and no one to rely on to take care of it for him. Deakins had gone as well, but only for as long as it took him to check in at One Police Plaza, and let everyone at MCS know that Bobby was in hospital. It was particularly important that he do that, because he had to make provisions for being short two detectives, at least temporarily.

She looked back at Bobby, feeling that dull but persistent sensation of panic deep in her gut. As much as she hoped and prayed it would only be temporary, there were so many 'what ifs' that it was almost impossible to get her head around them all.

Alex looked away, out the window once more. On any other Monday morning at this time, she would have been just settling in at her desk in the Major Case bullpen. Bobby would arrive shortly after, laden with hot coffee and bagels from the delicatessen down the road. Provided they weren't already working on a case, they might have perhaps an hour or so of puttering around before the inevitable call came, starting them off on yet another mental and emotional roller coaster ride.

She liked the mornings when they arrived and didn't have to get started straight away on a new case, or an ongoing investigation. It afforded them the chance to just sit and talk, in a way that they weren't often able to. When that happened, they didn't necessarily talk about work, either. Sometimes it would be about what each of them had done on the weekend… Or, perhaps, anything that was going on with their families.

Though, admittedly, if the subject turned to families, it tended to be her that did most of the talking. Bobby rarely spoke to her about his visits with his mother, particularly if it was a less than pleasant visit.

She looked back at him once more, wondering suddenly whether he had visited his mother on Saturday, ahead of the apparently fateful visit from his brother. Of course he had, she thought glumly. She hoped it had been a good visit for him, because God only knew when he might see her again… or _if_ he might see her again.

That was a thought far too painful to contemplate, and yet she couldn't turn her mind to other paths. In all honesty, she didn't know what would be worse. If Bobby were to die, no doubt a part of her would die along with him. But at the same time, losing his sight would surely kill him inside. Either way, she was at risk of losing the best partner she had ever had. _That_ was something she could not allow herself to consider. Not yet… and hopefully, not at all.

"Excuse me, Detective Eames?"

She looked up to see Captain Don Cragen from the SVU standing in the doorway. He favoured her with a kindly look.

"Mind if I come in?"

She shook her head wordlessly, not trusting herself to speak. Cragen came in slowly, pausing just inside the doorway to look at Bobby's battered features.

"Jesus. I read Elliot and Olivia's report, but I didn't realise it was this bad. Sons of bitches really did a number on him, didn't they?"

Alex stared at him questioningly.

"So there _was_ more than one assailant?"

Cragen hesitated in answering, choosing his words with care before going on.

"We're certain more than one person was involved. Whether more than one person took part in the actual attack, we don't know yet."

"But you have his brother in custody."

"Yes, we do," Cragen confirmed. "Elliot and Olivia are still questioning him. He's not exactly been forthcoming."

Alex sighed softly as she sank back into one of the chairs by the bedside.

"What a surprise."

Cragen watched her thoughtfully.

"Captain Deakins is back at One Police Plaza, then?"

"He went to organise a few things. He said he'd be back in a couple of hours."

"Have you had any rest?"

She favoured him with a flat stare, and Cragen smiled grimly.

"Sorry, stupid question. Tell me honestly, how is he doing?"

Alex rubbed her hand over her eyes, struggling to keep alert in the face of growing exhaustion.

"The doctor said he's not going to die."

"Thank God for that," Cragen murmured with sincere relief.

"That's about all they can guarantee at the moment, though," Alex said. Cragen crossed the floor to the bedside, and looked down at Bobby's face with concern.

"His eyes?"

"He may or may not lose his sight. The doctor told Captain Deakins that the burns were on his eyelids, and not on his eyes, so there's a chance he may see again."

"You don't sound as though you're being very positive."

She accepted the gentle admonishment without rancour, too tired to take offence.

"Hope for the best, but expect the worst. What else can I do?"

"I know," Cragen murmured. "It's not easy being strong in the face of so much uncertainty."

Alex looked up at him.

"Did his brother do this?"

It was all Cragen could do not to flinch at the blunt question.

"We don't know, Alex. Elliot and Olivia are still talking to him."

"You must have some idea," she pressed. "Please, Captain, I need to know. If Bobby wakes up, and doesn't remember anything, what am I supposed to tell him? I, for one, would really like to not have to tell him his brother beat him up and raped him."

"His brother didn't rape him," Cragen said softly. "I don't know whether he had anything to do with the beating, but he didn't know about the rape until Elliot told him. He was genuinely horrified. Trust me, no one can fake a reaction like he had."

"But it's possible he was involved in the assault."

"Yes," Cragen answered. "It's possible."

Alex looked away, fighting the tears that threatened.

"Son of a bitch."

"If he had anything to do with it at all, he won't get away with it," Cragen assured her. "Whether Goren can testify to his involvement or not, we'll get the evidence, and we'll bury the bastard with it. I promise you. The bastards that did this are not going to walk free. We _will_ get them."

She didn't respond. Cragen watched as she focused her complete attention on her unconscious partner, struggling to hold in the emotions that were persistently trying to push their way to the surface.

He sympathised with her, he really did. It was hard enough when any cop came under attack. Solidarity amongst cops was expected when one of your own went down, whether you knew the unfortunate officer or not. When it was your partner, though, that made everything so much worse. Alex Eames was trying to put up a brave front, and that was commendable, but in unnecessary in Cragen's eyes.

A sudden gasp of surprise from Alex brought Cragen abruptly back to the present, and he looked down at her questioningly.

"What is it?"

Again, Alex didn't respond, but instead leaned in closer to her partner.

"Bobby? Can you hear me?"

Cragen frowned a little, wondering how she could possibly think he was waking up so soon. On his way up to ICU, he'd spoken to one of the doctors assigned to care for the detective, and they'd told him that Goren would probably remain unconscious for the next two to three days. He was about to gently remind her of that when he finally saw what she had seen only seconds before.

In a slight, almost imperceptible movement, Bobby Goren had just turned his head.

Ignoring Cragen, Alex leaned in as close as she could reasonably get, laying one hand gently on Bobby's bare arm in an effort to let him know she was there. For nearly a minute, there was no further movement from him, and she was about to resign herself to the likelihood that the movement was only reflexive when a faint moan came from his bruised lips.

"I'll find a doctor," Cragen said, not entirely sure if she'd even heard him. He hurried from the room without waiting for a response.

Alex barely noticed him go. Her attention was fixed solely on her partner.

"C'mon, Bobby, wake up," she begged him. "Show me you can hear me. Please…"

Slowly, obviously painfully, his lips parted just slightly, and another soft moan issued from them.

"_A_… _'le_…"

The word came out garbled and barely audible, but Alex understood regardless.

"I'm here," she said, tears filling her eyes with a mixture of relief and sorrow. "I'm right here, Bobby."

He tried to speak again, but no sound came out, only a pained moan.

"Hush, don't try to speak," she murmured. "Here…"

Pressing her thumb over the protruding end of the straw that sat in a glass of water on the mobile table, Alex allowed a few drops at a time to fall in his mouth, until the straw was empty. He answered her gesture with a shudder, but didn't try to speak again.

Putting the straw aside, Alex reached across and gently pressed her palm to his cheek. She wanted so badly to take his hand, and yet she couldn't do even that simple thing to reassure him of her presence. God only knew what was going through his mind right at that moment, whether he remembered anything of what had happened to him, or if he even knew where he was.

His head turned again, this time turning in towards her touch.

"I'm here," she whispered again, struggling to keep her voice even. The last thing she wanted was to upset him because she couldn't control her own emotions. "I'm right here beside you. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"_Hurts_…"

The word came from his lips like an exhaled breath. It was barely audible, and it took her a moment to decipher what it was that he'd actually said. He was in pain, she realised numbly, and probably a lot of it.

Movement behind her drew her attention, and she looked around just as Dr Craig strode in, followed by two nurses.

"I'll be damned, he is awake," she murmured. "Detective Eames, I'm going to have to ask you to move aside…"

"No," Alex growled, suddenly galvanised by the threat of being removed from her partner's side, even if for just a short time. "I won't leave him."

"I'm not asking you to leave the room, Detective," Dr Craig said patiently, "just to move aside for a few minutes. Please, we need to be able to do our jobs, and we can't with you right there."

"C'mon, Alex," Cragen murmured, his grip firm on her shoulders as he guided her away from the bedside. "Come and stand over here. The sooner they do whatever it is they have to do, the sooner you can be at his side again."

Alex conceded with visible reluctance, and allowed Cragen to lead her over to the far wall. Dr Craig flashed them a reassuring smile, then turned her attention to Bobby.

"Robert? Can you hear me?"

A weak, tired moan met her question, followed by a rasping answer.

"_Y_…_ Yes_…"

"Good," she said. "That's good. I need to ask you a couple of questions, and I just want you to answer yes, or no. Can you do that?"

"_Yes_."

"That's really good, Robert. Now, do you know where you are?"

Silence. Dr Craig waited for a long moment, and was about to ask again when Bobby finally responded.

"_No_."

"You're in hospital, Robert. You're in the Intensive Care Unit, at St Clare's Hospital. Do you know why you're here?"

Again, there was silence, this time considerably more prolonged. Finally, when he still didn't answer, she spoke again.

"It's all right if you don't remember anything. You've only just woken up, and everything is going to be hazy for a while. Now I just want you to relax as much as you can, and let us do everything. All right?"

"_Can't see_."

"Your eyes are bandaged, Robert," Dr Craig told him. "That's why you can't see anything at the moment. But I don't want you to worry about that."

"_H_… _ts_…"

"What was that?" Dr Craig asked.

"He said it hurts," Alex spoke up impatiently.

"Okay," Dr Craig said. "We're going to put a shot of morphine through your IV drip, Robert. That should take the edge off the pain. Just hold on, there."

Alex continued to watch with growing impatience as Dr Craig and the two nurses saw to her partner, checking all of his vital stats with what seemed to her to be excruciating slowness. It was what seemed an age to her before the doctor finally sent the nurses out of the room and back to their regular duties, and motioned for Alex and Cragen to come back to the bedside. Alex was there in an instant, one hand on Bobby's arm and the other gently stroking his damp, matted hair.

"Alex…" he whispered, finding his voice more easily as the minutes passed.

"Yes, I'm here," she told him.

"What… What happened… to me?"

Alex looked from Dr Craig to Cragen, at a loss for what to say. Cragen stepped in, then.

"This is Captain Cragen, Detective Goren. Can you tell us, what's the last thing you remember?"

Bobby answered that question with a long silence. Alex dreaded to know whether he was trying to sort out an answer in his mind, or whether he was trying to work out just why the Special Victims Unit captain was in his hospital room.

"My brother," he mumbled finally. "Richie… He came to see me… Saturday night… What day is it?"

"It's Monday morning, Bobby," Alex told him. "Do you remember anything from Richie's visit? Anything at all?"

Again, there was silence as Bobby racked his exhausted mind for an answer.

"He wanted money… Something about a debt… I said no… We argued… I think he left… I don't really remember."

"That's good, Detective," Cragen said quietly. "Don't force yourself to remember. It'll come back to you soon enough."

"Was I… attacked?"

Cragen stared at Alex, who looked back at him, distraught. Finally, he answered grimly, in the affirmative.

"Yes, Detective. You were."

Bobby shuddered violently.

"How bad…?"

"I don't want you worrying about that at the moment, Robert," Dr Craig told him firmly, at the same time firing Cragen a threatening look. "You're being taken care of by my staff now, and that's all you need to worry about."

"And I'm not going anywhere," Alex promised him. "I'm staying right here. Okay?"

Cragen laid a hand encouragingly on Alex's shoulder before exiting the room. Only a minute later, after determining that all was as it needed to be, Dr Craig left as well, leaving Alex alone with her partner.

"Alex."

She watched him tearfully.

"What is it?"

"Talk to me. Tell me… Tell me what happened."

Alex felt sick to her stomach. As reluctant as she was to tell him the truth, she knew Deakins was right. She had to be honest with him, little though she liked it. Maybe, though, she could be selective in how much she actually told him.

"No one knows the full story, yet. I… I got a call last night, from Captain Deakins. Captain Cragen contacted _him_. Your neighbour, Mrs Pirelli… She found you in your… your apartment, Bobby. You were in a really bad way."

"She… okay?"

"Who, Mrs Pirelli?"

"Yeah."

Alex swallowed a sigh. Typical that Bobby should worry about the wellbeing of another when he was the one critically injured in hospital.

"She's fine, Bobby. Just… in shock. We all are."

"SVU's investigating?"

Alex's stomach churned. She'd wondered how long it would take him to focus on that.

"Yes," she confirmed softly. "They've got the case."

"Why?"

She suspected it was a pointless question; that he already knew why even if he hadn't actually remembered yet. She could have throttled him for asking, though.

"You… You were assaulted, Bobby. Physically and…"

She faltered, damn near choking before she could get anything more out. God, why was she having such a hard time saying it? It wasn't as though it wasn't something they often dealt with. In the end, he said it for her.

"Raped."

It wasn't a question, and Alex felt her heart break at the pain that his voice radiated. For just a split second, she was grateful for the bandages that covered his eyes. Had he been able to see, she didn't think she could have stood the anguish that she knew she would have seen there in his chocolate brown eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, fighting with every ounce of emotional strength she had to keep her voice steady; to be strong for him.

"I don't remember."

She was quietly grateful for that. She knew it would come back to him soon enough, and then it would be hell to deal with, but right then? He didn't need to be burdened with what was sure to be some truly horrific memories.

"Don't try," she told him. "Just… try and rest, okay?"

He was silent, and she was just starting to wonder whether he'd fallen asleep again when Deakins strode in, his face a mixed mask of anxiety and hope.

"I just saw Dr Craig. She said Bobby was awake…"

"He was," Alex murmured.

"Still am," Bobby whispered, startling them both just a little. Deakins moved up beside Alex, and reached down to lay his hand gently on the detective's arm.

"How are you feeling, Bobby?"

"Like crap."

Deakins managed a small smile.

"I don't doubt it. You look like crap, too."

A tiny smile quirked the corners of Bobby's mouth in appreciation of Deakins' humour.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"How's the pain level?" Deakins asked, his smile fading as concern took over. Bobby drew in a forcibly slow breath before answering.

"Getting better."

"Dr Craig gave him a shot of morphine through the IV," Alex explained quietly. "He was in a lot of pain when he woke up."

"Not surprising," Deakins muttered. "Listen to me, Bobby. Everyone at Major Case is waiting to hear how you are. Anything you'd like me to pass on?"

Bobby didn't answer immediately. Alex was about to make a suggestion for him when he did finally mumble an answer.

"Hanging… in there."

Even as they watched, exhaustion mixed with the effects of the morphine took hold, and Bobby slipped once more into the pain-free peace of sleep.

"He's out again," Deakins murmured. "I take it he wasn't awake for long?"

"Fifteen minutes, at the most," Alex said.

"Well, that's something, at least. Does he remember anything?"

"He said he didn't. But he knows he was assaulted."

Deakins raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Alex reluctantly explained.

"He knows he was beaten up and raped. Captain Cragen was in here when he woke up. It was kind of a big give-away."

"Don was here? I must have just missed him. Did he say anything to you about the case?"

"Not much. He said Benson and Stabler are still questioning Bobby's brother. I got the impression he didn't just come here to see for himself what condition Bobby is in, but if he was going to ask about anything, it got left by the wayside when Bobby woke up." She looked up at him questioningly. "You told everyone at Major Case?"

"Just that he was attacked, and that he's in hospital," Deakins told her. "The details are under wraps."

Alex wiped furiously at the tears that were trying so hard to work their way out of her eyes.

"Did any of them even care?"

Deakins felt a simultaneous sensation of horror and understanding.

"Of course they do, Alex. Why would you even ask that?"

She looked up at him, and it was all he could do not to flinch at the sight of her tear-streaked face and eyes that were red and swollen from shedding tears.

"You know as well as I do that none of them really give a damn about Bobby. They just see him as some sort of freak. The only reason they tolerate him is because he's so good at the job."

Deakins wanted desperately to dispute that, but in the end he couldn't. Unwittingly, his mind slipped back a couple of hours ago to his arrival at the Major Case Squad room. Ron Carver had been there, waiting for him in his office, clearly agitated. He had been in the final stages of planning for his latest court case, and needed to go over some vital information with Major Case's two best detectives, and hadn't been happy to find them absent from the office. He recalled the ensuing event with nausea in his gut.

"_They're not coming in, Ron. You're going to have to ask for a postponement on this one."_

_Ron Carver stood frozen, staring at Deakins in disbelief. _

"_You can't be serious. This case has already been postponed twice. Judge Saunders is not going to make allowances again."_

"_He's going to have to, Ron. Goren and Eames aren't going to be available… Goren, especially… not for some time."_

_Ron faltered, suddenly realising something was very wrong._

"_What's happened?"_

"_Goren was attacked in his home some time over the weekend, Ron. He was attacked, and left for dead. It was only his neighbour finding him last night that probably saved his life. If he'd gone much longer than he did without medical assistance, he wouldn't be alive now."_

"_Good god. Do you have any idea who's responsible?"_

"_It's not our case. SVU are handling it."_

_Ron froze, his face reflecting his shock. "Special Victims Unit? You mean… he was raped?"_

"_I'm afraid so," Deakins confirmed grimly. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd keep that information under wraps, Ron."_

"_Of course. Do you know how he is?"_

"_Alive. Beyond that, I can't really say. Can you give me a few minutes, Ron? I need to let everyone here know."_

_Ron nodded amiably, and stood watching in the doorway of Deakins' office as the captain called the attention of the detectives and other staff there._

"_Everyone, listen up. I have some bad news. Bobby Goren was attacked and left for dead some time over Saturday night in a violent home invasion."_

_A murmur of shock swept through the small crowd that had gathered to listen to Deakins. The captain went on grimly._

"_He's in St Clare's right now, in the Intensive Care Unit. He's in a critical condition."_

"_But he's gonna pull through, right?" someone called out._

_Deakins nodded, feeling a sensation of warmth at the question. Perhaps Bobby Goren wasn't quite as unpopular as he thought he was._

"_Yes, he's going to live."_

"_Good," the same person muttered in a lower, but still audible voice. "Because the rest of us don't need to be doing double-time trying handle that freak's workload."_

_Deakins had reeled with shock at the callous comment, even more-so because no one made the effort to rebuke the one who had spoken. _

"_That **freak**," Deakins snapped angrily, "is a fellow cop who was brutally attacked in his own home. And yes, I am going to need you to pull together, at least for a while, to cover Goren and Eames' cases. And I expect you to do it without the derogatory comments!"_

_To his dismay, the detectives had dispersed, quietly grumbling amongst themselves. _

"_I would have thought the situation would have encouraged them to put aside any personal dislikes," Carver mused as Deakins came back into his office. "Apparently I was wrong."_

"_Seems we both were," Deakins muttered. _

"I'm right, aren't I?"

Deakins looked at Alex, snapped out of the unpleasant memory by her voice. She was watching him with a mixture of pain and resignation.

"What you told Bobby about everyone at Major Case waiting to hear how he is. They're not, are they? They don't care."

"It's not that they don't care," Deakins said, trying to choose his words carefully. "They just…"

"Don't care," she concluded abruptly. "Don't try to sugar coat it. None of them care about Bobby. As long as he does his job, that's all they care about. Everyone in Major Case, _and_ the brass upstairs."

Deakins sighed softly.

"I wish I could say you're wrong, Alex. Maybe before too long the attitude will change, but until then, I suppose it's up to us to help Bobby get through this."

Alex stared at her partner, fresh tears in her eyes. Sometimes she hated being right. She really did.

* * *

Elliot and Olivia came out of what felt to them like a marathon interrogation session, with little more to show for it than what they'd had when they first started. So far, they'd managed to confirm that Richard Goren had been in his brother's apartment on Saturday night. Beyond that, they had nothing. 

"No joy?" Munch asked as they came back to their desks. Elliot sighed and shook his head.

"No. His lawyer talked him into shutting up. God, I hate lawyers."

"Well, here's something that may or may not cheer you up."

"What is it?" Olivia asked as Fin handed her and Elliot each a copy of a sketch artist's picture.

"Apparently that's the guy that threatened Goren's Super. He said this guy showed up about two weeks ago, and told him to make sure that all the alarms on Goren's floor were disabled for Saturday night. He said he threatened to kill him if he didn't do it, and left a nice, deep cut on the guy's throat to emphasize how serious he was."

"And he didn't call the cops?" Olivia asked incredulously. "Or even got to Goren about it?"

"Says he didn't dare," Munch answered wearily. "He says he had no idea what was being planned, or that someone was going to get hurt. He says he would have gone to the cops if he'd known that."

"That'll be a big comfort to Goren," Elliot muttered.

"Captain's back," Olivia murmured. They all looked around as Cragen came through the archway into the SVU bullpen, and crossed the floor to where they were sitting together.

"Did you see Goren?" Fin asked, and Cragen nodded.

"Yes, I saw him. And after seeing him there, in hospital, I can only imagine how terrible he looked when he was actually found.

"It wasn't pretty," Elliot confirmed. "Did you talk to Eames? Or Captain Deakins?"

"I didn't have a chance to ask Eames about Goren's brother, and Deakins wasn't there. But Goren woke up while I was there."

"You're serious?" Olivia asked in astonishment. "Damn, he must have some incredible strength of will. The doctors said he wasn't likely to wake up for a couple of days."

"Did he remember anything?" Munch asked.

"Nothing of the actual assault," Cragen replied. "He did remember his brother being there on Saturday night, but nothing beyond that. He said he remembered Richard asking him for money, and that they got into an argument over it when he said no. But he doesn't remember whether Richard stayed or went after that."

"It's not enough," Olivia said with a sigh. "We're going to have to go to the hospital, and wait. We need to be there when he wakes up next, so we can talk to him."

Cragen nodded.

"Go ahead. I think Alex Eames could probably do with the company, too."

"I would have thought Major Case would have had a vigil up and running by now," Elliot said, frowning a little. Cragen shrugged.

"I would have thought so, too, but maybe they're just too flat out busy. You two go. You can't do much else now until you've spoken to Goren anyway. Just remember to call in, and keep me updated."

They watched him retreat into his office, and then Olivia and Elliot rose up together from their chairs.

"Don't forget this," Munch said, holding a copy of the sketched suspect out to Elliot. "Show it to Eames while you're there. Maybe she'll recognise him."

Elliot slipped the page into his jacket, and looked across at Olivia, and motioned towards the exit.

"Shall we?"

She smiled faintly.

"Let's go."

* * *

_tbc_... 


	7. Painful Recollections

_A/N_: Thankyou so much to all the people who have taken the time to leave reviews. I find it interesting that the story which generates the biggest response is the one which is literally the darkest and most sadistic, but there you go.

I've taken some liberties with the references to the drug chlorphenesin. Since it's a generally agreed upon notion that it would take a bullet or two to bring Detective Goren down, I was racking my mind (and the internet) for a drug that I could incoporate. I settled finally on the muscle relaxant chlorphenesin, and have tweaked the potential effects to suit the needs of my story.

* * *

Elliot and Olivia arrived at the ICU a full half hour after leaving SVU headquarters, their journey there delayed by heavy mid-morning traffic.

"Goddamn traffic snarls," Elliot grumbled as they entered ICU.

"Cool it, Elliot," Olivia warned him softly as they approached Bobby's room. He nodded wordlessly in acquiescence.

They rounded the corner, and walked into the cool, quiet room to be met by a touching sight. Alex still sat by her partner's bedside, but she was fast asleep, slumped forward with her head resting against the edge of the hospital mattress. Her right hand was closed gently over Bobby's forearm, just above the point where the splint and thick bandages that protected his damaged right hand ended, and her left was stretched across to rest lightly atop his head. Elliot and Olivia exchanged small, sad smiles. Even in sleep, Alex Eames was determined not to be separated from her partner.

Elliot pointed to a couple of chairs on the other side of the room, and they made their way around to sit down and wait. Olivia paused at the end of the bed, staring down at Bobby's battered features with a powerful feeling of anger.

"Look at him, Elliot," she said softly, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Alex up. "No one deserves to have this happen to them."

Elliot nodded again in agreement.

"I know. I can't believe no one else from Major Case is here, either. If anything like this happened to either of us, all of SVU would probably be camped out in the hospital."

"That's because all of SVU don't see you two as freaks."

Elliot and Olivia both jumped a little, startled by Alex's voice. She lifted her head from the bed, and her bleary gaze slowly focused on them.

"We didn't mean to wake you, Alex," Olivia murmured. Alex sat up straight in the seat, but both SVU detectives noticed she kept one hand on Bobby's arm as she stretched.

"It's okay," she mumbled. "This isn't the best place to sleep, anyway."

"Maybe you should go home and get some proper rest," Elliot suggested gently. He wasn't surprised when Alex shook her head in rejection of that suggestion.

"No. I'm not going anywhere. I don't want him waking up to strangers… or worse, waking up alone."

"We thought Major Case would have organised a rotation of people to stay with him by now," Elliot ventured tentatively. At that, a bitter and angry look flashed across Alex's face.

"Bastards, all of them. They can all just rot in hell."

Again, Olivia and Elliot exchanged glances.

"It's no accident that no vigil's been organised, isn't it?" Olivia said softly, and Alex looked away as fresh tears threatened.

"Deakins told them this morning. Apparently all they were worried about was whether they'd have to take on extra cases to compensate. None of them give a damn about Bobby. He'd be the first to put his name down if this had happened to any of them, but none of them will set foot near the hospital because it's him. I bet they wouldn't have the same issues if I was the one who'd been attacked."

"Let us talk to the guys at our squad," Elliot told her. "We'll see if we can't put those assholes at MCS to shame."

Alex rubbed a hand over her eyes miserably.

"I'm sorry, I was just venting. Forget I said anything. I mean, it'll hurt Bobby to know that none of them care enough to come and see him, but he'd hate a false show of sympathy even more."

Olivia glanced sideways at her partner. She knew the look on his face all-too-well. He intended to go ahead and organise a vigil through SVU, regardless of what Alex said. She partly suspected his motives were less than pure – there were few things Elliot liked more than showing up the high profile Major Case Squad. However, she also knew him well enough to know that he had genuine concern and compassion for the injured detective, enough so to put aside any past feelings of animosity or dislike. In Elliot's eyes, Bobby Goren was no longer the annoying, know-all detective from Major Case, but rather a victim of a violent and heinous crime; a victim who was deserving and in need of compassion and kindness.

In fact, as her mind went back to the general reaction from the SVU detectives and assigned officers when the word had spread about what had happened, she suspected that Elliot would have no trouble convincing the other members of their squad to volunteer. Bobby Goren may not have been the most popular detective, but everyone at SVU respected him, and they had all been horrified by the crimes perpetrated on him.

"Where is Deakins, anyway?" Olivia wondered. "We half expected him to be here, too."

"He had to get back to One Police Plaza," Alex explained tiredly. "He didn't want to go, but he didn't have a choice. The brass upstairs wanted him to report to them, and he had a pile of work waiting for him in his office."

"He'll be back later, then?" Olivia asked, and Alex nodded wordlessly, not bothering to query their interest.

"Alex, would you mind taking a look at something for us?" Elliot asked, pulling the copy of the sketch from within his jacket. "Tell if this guy is familiar to you."

Alex took the page from Elliot to look at it. A moment later, she stiffened visibly.

"You know who he is?" Olivia asked, and Alex nodded.

"This is Simon Matic. Bobby and I nailed him for kidnap and rape around three years ago. Who came up with this picture?"

"Bobby's Super gave the description to one of our sketch artists," Elliot told her. "He said this guy came to him a couple of weeks ago, and left instructions to make sure all the alarms were turned off on Bobby's floor on Saturday night. You busted this guy for kidnap and rape, you say?"

"If we could have gotten him on anything else, we would have," Alex said bitterly. "He's a sadistic monster."

"You think he'd be capable of doing all of this to Goren?" Elliot asked. A distinct chill settled in the air as Alex contemplated that.

"Yes," she said softly after a moment's consideration. "He'd be more than capable."

Her mind flashed back abruptly to that moment in the interrogation room, when Bobby had delivered the knock-out blow with Maggie Coulter's drawing. In addition to his obvious anger at being caught, there was a hot, violent hatred in Simon Matic's eyes that had frightened all of them – even Bobby. Later on, Deakins had made a grim comment about being aware of possible payback should Matic ever be released from prison, and for once Bobby had not simply shrugged it off. Now, it suddenly seemed that Deakins' words were coming back to haunt them all.

"The way he looked at us… and at Bobby especially… when they took him away for arraignment," Alex said softly. "He would have attacked Bobby right then and there, if he'd had the chance. I'm sure he would have." She looked back up at the two SVU detectives, confused. "He shouldn't be out of prison yet. It was only three years ago, and he was handed a fifteen year sentence."

"We'll have to look into it," Elliot murmured, "but odds are he had a successful appeal against his sentence."

"When Bobby wakes up again, we'll see whether he can remember anything," Olivia said. Immediately, Alex's guard went up.

"He couldn't remember anything before, when Cragen was here. You can't force him to remember anything before he's ready to."

"We know that, Alex," Elliot said calmly. "We aren't going to try and force him, but we do still need to talk to him. You know that. We need him to at least try to remember whether his brother left before the assault began. The bottom line is that we don't have any hard evidence at the moment to link Richard Goren to the assault, and unless we can get a statement from Goren saying otherwise, his brother is going to be released from custody in a matter of hours. And if that happens, I'm betting he'll do a very rapid disappearing act. Now, if he had something to do with the attack on Goren… anything at all, then we don't want him walking away from it."

Alex was silent for a long moment.

"You didn't get any DNA from the rape kit?"

Olivia shook her head.

"No. We're guessing that whoever raped him has had a vasectomy. There was no DNA at all in the semen that the rape kit found."

"And there were no other fibres?" she pressed. "Nothing at all?"

"CSU are still processing evidence," Elliot answered, "but so far they haven't found anything useful. The assholes that did this were very thorough. Also… Alex, he was drugged."

Alex sat up slowly, her already pale face turning yet another shade of white.

"Drugged?"

"We suspect it happened before the assault began," Olivia explained. "Possibly his brother did it. CSU found a beer glass with traces of drugs that were found in Bobby's blood, but they only found Bobby's fingerprints and DNA on it, no one else's."

"Drugged," Alex whispered, feeling a chill race down her spine. "He wasn't knocked out, though, was he?"

"No," Olivia confirmed softly. "CSU determined it to a be a muscle relaxant called Chlorphenesin. The dosage given to Bobby was just enough to leave him temporarily immobile, but not enough to knock him out, or shut down his respiratory system."

"Immobile? You mean…"

"He knew what was happening," Elliot said. "He could feel everything, but he couldn't lift a finger to defend himself. He wasn't given a chance to fight back."

Alex pressed one hand over her mouth as her body shuddered violently. Then, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of Bobby, she pinched hard at the bridge of her nose.

"All right," she said finally in an almost disturbingly calm voice. "What's next?"

Elliot took a deliberate step back, and sat down.

"Now, we wait for Goren to wake up."

* * *

"His books."

Elliot and Olivia both looked up at Alex simultaneously. They'd been there for nearly two hours now, and over the last half hour silence had finally fallen. Elliot had been on the verge of nodding off when Alex spoke, startling him back into awareness.

"What about his books?" Olivia asked.

"Was there anything salvageable? Anything at all?"

"No," Elliot confirmed softly, not really caring for Bobby to wake up at that moment and overhear this particular conversation. "They were pretty thorough. CSU went through his place with a fine tooth comb, but there was nothing left. All of his books are gone."

Alex buried her face in her hands.

"Those books were a lifeline. Some of them were irreplaceable."

Neither Elliot nor Olivia attempted to say anything about compensation. They knew without it having to be said that no amount of financial compensation would make up for the loss of something that clearly meant a great deal to Bobby.

"You don't have to be the one to tell him," Olivia offered. "We'll tell him, if you want us to."

"Tell me what?"

All three detectives were on their feet in seconds at the faltering sound of Bobby's voice.

"Hey," Alex murmured, reaching across to gently stroke his cheek in an affectionate gesture. "How are you feeling?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"Been better."

It was, quite possibly, the biggest understatement Alex had ever heard him utter. Had the circumstances not been what they were, she probably would have laughed. As it was, she had to make a conscious effort not to cry again.

"Is that Olivia Benson?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, it's me," Olivia answered. "Elliot's here too, Bobby."

A small, tired smile quirked the corner's of Bobby's mouth.

"They stuck you two with me, huh?"

Elliot laid a hand gently on Bobby's left shoulder, acutely aware that there probably were not that many places on the detective's body that didn't hurt.

"They didn't _stick_ us with you, Bobby, and we're not here to gloat over anything. We're here to see you, to see how you are, and to ask a few questions if you think you're up for that."

Bobby lay silently for a long moment speaking.

"I… I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologise to us," Olivia told him firmly. "There's no need, and you know it."

Bobby seemed to relax a little, then.

"Thankyou," he whispered, genuinely grateful for their kind understanding. "I… I don't know how much I can remember, though."

"Just tell us whatever you can," Elliot told him. "Don't try to force it. It'll come back soon enough without you doing that."

"I suppose you want to… to hear about Richie."

"Whatever you're able to tell us," Elliot reassured him. "Just take your time, Bobby. Don't rush."

Alex watched Elliot with renewed respect. Despite his earlier admission that they only had a few more hours to find solid evidence implicating Richard Goren, Elliot was deliberately putting as little pressure as possible on Bobby. A cynical part of her whispered that it was just a tactic, but one look at Elliot told her otherwise.

There was honest and open concern on the detective's face, and in his eyes. It had nothing to do with tactics, Alex realised with relief and gratitude. It had everything to do with Elliot's compassion for Bobby as a victim.

Satisfied that her partner was in good company, Alex decided it was finally time to take a short break, and perhaps get some fresh air and mid-morning stimulation.

"Bobby, I'm just going to go for a short walk," she told him gently. "Get myself some coffee, and a bit of fresh air."

He stiffened visibly, panic threatening at the thought of her leaving his side, even for a short while.

"It's okay," Alex murmured, anxious to allay his fear. "I'll be back, I promise. I'm not leaving you alone, not for anything."

Slowly, Bobby relaxed again as he reassured himself that she was, indeed, coming back.

"Is there anything you want?" she asked.

"A… A newspaper would be good. I mean… If you could… That is…"

She smiled and this time when she leaned in she kissed him gently on the cheek. None of them, however, missed the way he tensed just momentarily at her touch. Alex drew back from him, pained understanding flickering in her eyes.

"Of course I'll read it to you," she assured him. "I'll be back in a little while."

"I tell you, you're a lucky guy, Bobby," Elliot mused once Alex had gone. "Having Alex Eames for a partner, I mean."

"Don't know what I'd do without her," Bobby admitted softly. "She's my best friend."

Elliot glanced at Olivia, who smiled knowingly. It had been debated more than once whether Bobby Goren and Alex Eames were covering up a more… _physical_ relationship. Bobby's simple, un-stuttered statement told them both very plainly that that wasn't the case.

"Bobby, we're going to record this, okay?" Elliot told him as he set up a mini-recorder on the table.

"Okay," Bobby conceded softly. Elliot checked the tape, the pressed record and nodded to Olivia to begin.

"How about we start with what you did on Friday?" Olivia suggested. "What time did you finish up at work?"

"Just after three-thirty," Bobby answered slowly. "We finished our paperwork early… Skipped lunch to get it done. Alex… It was her father's birthday, and she didn't want to be late."

"So where did you go when you left One Police Plaza?" Elliot asked.

"Just… Just went home. It… It'd been a hard week."

Elliot and Olivia exchanged sympathetic looks. There was no need for Bobby to elaborate there. They both understood perfectly a hard-working detective's definition of a 'hard week'.

"When you got home," Olivia said, "did anything unusual happen? Did you see anyone hanging around that shouldn't have been there?"

Bobby met that question with a long, contemplative silence. Finally, he gave the tiniest shake of his head.

"No. I met my neighbour… Helped her carry her groceries upstairs to her apartment… We talked a little. I told her I had to cancel dinner with her on Saturday night, because my brother was coming to see me…"

"You were expecting your brother?" Elliot asked, a little surprised by the knowledge.

"Yeah. He… um… He said he wanted to catch up, but I figured he was probably after money. He usually is."

"So you cancelled out of dinner with your neighbour… Rosa Pirelli, wasn't it?" Olivia prompted.

"Yeah," Bobby murmured. "Mrs Pirelli. She… We agreed to have dinner on Sunday night instead. Then I went into my apartment… Didn't leave again until Saturday morning."

"What did you do on Saturday?" Elliot asked. At that, Bobby hesitated.

"I visited my mother," he ventured finally. Olivia laid a hand lightly on his arm.

"Bobby, please don't get upset, but we know about your mother. Your brother more or less blurted it out when we were interrogating him."

Bobby suddenly went very quiet as his mind worked over that information, processing it as fast as he was able to in his current state.

"He… You… You've arrested Richie?"

"For credit card theft, and impersonating a police officer," Elliot answered. "He checked himself into a hotel using one of your credit cards, and your gold shield."

Again, Bobby was silent for a long moment.

"He stole my shield… and a credit card?"

"Are you saying you didn't give him either one?" Elliot asked, and Bobby drew in a slow breath. Even in his fractured state of mind, he understood what Elliot was pushing for.

"No, I didn't. I didn't give him one of my credit cards, and I sure as hell didn't give him my badge."

Elliot and Olivia exchanged small smiles. That was two counts they could nail Bobby's big brother on. Now, to see if they couldn't make it third time lucky, and try for the one that would see Richard Goren denied bail at his arraignment.

"Bobby, tell us what you can about Saturday night, from the time when your brother arrived," Olivia prodded him gently. Bobby considered for a moment where to start, as well as what he actually remembered clearly, before going on quietly.

"Richie arrived around nine o'clock. We each had a beer… Then he got to the reason why he'd come. He needed a lot of money, fast. He'd just done a three year stint in prison, and he said he owed a lot of protection money. He wanted me to give it to him. Said… Said I owed it to him as his little brother."

"How much money did he want?" Olivia wondered.

"A quarter of a million," Bobby answered tiredly. A short, bitter laugh escaped his lips. "He wouldn't believe me when I said I didn't have that kind of money. He wanted to know how I was paying for Mom to stay at Carmel Ridge, if I didn't have a lot of money stashed away. He wouldn't believe my army pension is paying for all of that."

Elliot scrawled the figure down in his notebook, along with the word 'who for' and a question mark next to it.

"What happened when you refused?" Olivia asked.

"He went nuts," Bobby answered softly. "I thought I was going to have to call for uniforms. I'm kind of surprised none of the neighbours did."

"What time was this?" Elliot asked, frowning.

"Uh… About quarter to ten."

Elliot's frown deepened as he scribbled that down as well. Quarter to ten didn't correspond with the timeline they'd gotten from the neighbours. They'd reported hearing loud disturbances shortly before midnight.

"Did anything get smashed up when your brother had his tantrum?" Elliot asked.

"No… He just yelled at me for about fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Elliot murmured. "Sorry, go ahead."

"I… I finally got him to calm down. He… He said…"

"What?" Olivia prompted gently when he hesitated. Bobby drew in a ragged breath.

"He said I'd regret it if I didn't… didn't give him the money. That it'd come back on me. I said… I couldn't give him what I didn't have… He said the… the consequences were on my head, not his."

Bobby trailed off, his breath starting to come a little too rapidly for either Elliot or Olivia's liking. They were sure that Bobby was quickly coming to the same conclusions that they were, and it was starting to cause some sort of anxiety attack. If they wanted to avoid being booted out by his doctor, they needed to calm him down quickly.

Stepping in close, Olivia did as she had seen Alex do earlier. Reaching out, she laid her palm against the top of his head and allowed her thumb to gently stroke across his forehead in a soothing gesture.

"You're safe, Bobby," Olivia murmured. "Just focus on us, okay? Elliot and I are right here. Just concentrate on us."

Gradually, his breathing slowed again as the panic subsided. When they were confident that he was calm again, Elliot spoke once more.

"Can you tell us what happened next?"

A faint sigh escaped Bobby's bruised lips and he went on in a soft, thready voice. Both detectives guessed he didn't have much energy to spare before exhaustion claimed him again, and they were both anxious to get something with which they could stymie Richard Goren's application for bail.

"I said he could have one more beer. Then he had to go… and I told him… when he left, I didn't want to see him again. I… I got us both a beer… Glasses, that time, not bottles… Then I had to go to the bathroom. I guess, that's when he helped himself to my badge and credit card."

Elliot and Olivia traded glances. They suspected that was probably also when the chlorphenesin was put in his drink.

"We… finished our drinks, and then Richie left."

"Did he say anything else to you?" Elliot wondered.

Bobby hesitated in answering, trying to gather his thoughts. He understood the importance of answering the questions, but he was so damned tired… Struggling to keep his focus, he went on tremulously.

"He… He said it again… Whatever happened from then on was… was my fault, not his… That I'd had my chance. Then he… he left."

Silence reigned for a long moment, and then Bobby spoke again.

"I was drugged."

It was not a question.

"Yeah," Elliot confirmed softly. "You were. It was a pretty high dosage of the muscle relaxant chlorphenesin. In small doses it's used as an analgesic, but in larger doses… like what was found in your bloodstream… it can cause almost complete, temporary paralysis, but without inducing unconsciousness or numbness. CSU found traces of the drug in your beer glass."

Bobby was silent, taking in Elliot's words with a worrying calm.

"What do you remember happening after your brother left?" Olivia asked, sparing Elliot a grim look.

"I went and sat down," Bobby mumbled. "Just… Just wanted to clear my head. I remember thinking that I wanted to call Alex… But then I couldn't move. I… I thought at the time, I just didn't have the energy to move. But… I really couldn't… I think it was about twenty minutes after Richie left… I heard my… my front door open. Thought I'd locked it, but I guess I didn't. I… I thought it was Richie come back. I tried to… to get up, but I couldn't move. Nothing worked… I heard someone behind me… They didn't say anything, just tied a blindfold over my eyes. I… I tried to move… to do something, but I couldn't… I couldn't do anything."

His voice cracked audibly. Olivia strengthened the pressure of her hand on his head just a fraction, to remind him of where he was. He seemed to take comfort in the contact, and went on in a subdued voice.

"Then, whoever it was… They started hitting me. First with their fists, then…"

Elliot and Olivia said nothing, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"I was p… pulled out of my chair, to the floor… Then they started hitting me with a metal bar of some sort. I… I couldn't stop them."

"Them?" Elliot queried.

"There were two of them," Bobby confirmed. "I… I didn't notice at first, but then I could… could smell them. Two different kinds of aftershave."

Olivia looked at her partner in time to see him roll his eyes in mock exasperation, and she found she had to fight to conceal a grin of her own. Bobby Goren, and his legendary sense of smell…

"That… That was when I knew… knew Richie wasn't there," he said softly. "There were two men, but Richie wasn't one of them. But… he set me up, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Elliot answered, seeing no point in trying to keep the truth from him. "Yeah, Bobby, we think he did."

Bobby turned his head away from them.

"He set me up… My own brother…"

A shudder passed through him, barely perceptible but seen nonetheless by the two SVU detectives.

"He won't get away with it," Elliot promised him. "We'll nail his ass to the wall, and we'll get the other two scumbags that hurt you. We promise you that we'll get them."

Bobby hesitated. He hoped he'd said all they needed to hear, at least for the moment, but if they wanted to know more…

"Do… Do you want me to…"

He faltered, unable to finish what he'd started to say. Olivia looked sympathetically at him.

"Do you think you could manage to tell us anymore?"

Bobby didn't answer, and his silence spoke in volumes.

"It's okay," Elliot said. "You don't need to tell us anything more right now. I think we've got enough to stop Richie from getting bail. We'd better get going, though. Cragen will be waiting hear…"

He trailed off, looking down in mild surprise as Bobby sucked in a sharp breath.

"What is it? Is it the pain?" Elliot asked in concern. Bobby didn't reply, and all of a sudden his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. A moment later, understanding dawned in Olivia's eyes. He didn't want to be left alone, but was too embarrassed to admit it.

"Elliot, you go ahead," she told him quietly. "I might stay for a bit. At least until Alex gets back, anyway."

Elliot nodded in wordless understanding. He walked around to the other side of the bed, and then lay his hand briefly on Bobby's right arm.

"I'll come by to see you again later this evening, or tomorrow morning, okay?"

Bobby nodded slightly, touched by Elliot's care and concern.

"Thanks, Elliot."

Elliot nodded and smiled at his partner, then left the room. Olivia watched him go, then returned her attention to Bobby and resumed stroking his forehead to soothe him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"Tired," he whispered.

She wasn't surprised. It had taken a lot out of him to tell them all that he had, and even then she knew it was barely the tip of the iceberg.

"Try and rest," she murmured. "It's okay, Bobby. We've got your back, now. Just rest."

"_Should've_… _been able_… _trust_…"

"What was that?" Olivia asked, but she didn't get an answer, for Bobby was already asleep.

Olivia sat down slowly, watching the sleeping detective with a profound sense of grief. She knew she couldn't begin to imagine how he must feel, knowing now that he had literally been sold out by his own flesh and blood. It had to hurt like hell, plain and simple. Olivia shuddered a little. Despite her offer to Alex to tell Bobby about his books, she suddenly found she'd give just about anything _not_ to have to tell him. If what Alex had said was true, it would just about break his heart to learn of the destruction of his beloved books.

Movement in the doorway drew her attention, and she looked up to see Alex coming back in, looking considerably more alert after having had a fix of coffee. She had a couple of newspapers tucked under one arm, and a bottle of diet coke in hand. She paused in the doorway, looking first at Bobby and then Olivia.

"He's asleep?"

"We wore him out," Olivia said with an apologetic smile, only half joking. Alex walked around and deposited the papers and the bottle on the table.

"Was he able to…"

"Remember anything?" Olivia suggested lightly when Alex hesitated. "Yes, he remembered a fair bit, once we got started. He'd only just gotten to talking about the actual assault, though, when it got too much for him. We didn't push after that. We can talk to him about the assault a little bit later on."

"You didn't say anything about Simon Matic?"

"No, not yet. We'll wait and see what we find out about him before we raise his name with Bobby."

Alex hesitated, then asked another question.

"Where's Elliot?"

"I told him to go back to headquarters without me. One of us needed to get the tape back there quickly. Richard Goren is due to be brought for arraignment in less than an hour. We needed something to keep him from being given bail. Or, at least, a bail that _he_ could afford."

"And Bobby gave you what you needed?"

"He did," Olivia confirmed. "Well, we think so, anyway. We know now that Richard wasn't involved in the actual assault, but it looks like he had a big part in setting Bobby up for it. It had to be Richard who put the chlorphenesin in his beer."

"Son of a bitch," Alex muttered. She paused, looking down at her partner's now placid features sadly. "How did he cope? With talking about it, I mean."

"It wasn't easy," Olivia answered, "but he managed."

Alex looked around at Olivia, a mixture of grief and gratitude in her eyes.

"Thanks, Olivia."

"For what?"

"For not pressuring him. I know you were running against a deadline…"

"Alex, in our line of duty, the victim always gets top priority. If he hadn't been ready, or willing to talk to us, we wouldn't have forced him to. Luckily, as a detective, I guess he knows the importance of getting a witness statement as soon as possible after the fact. We were especially lucky that he was awake for us to talk to. He's a tough guy, Alex. It won't be easy, but I think he'll be okay."

Alex didn't respond to that, and Olivia took the liberty of walking over and giving her a reassuring hug.

"What's the matter? You don't believe that?"

"I want to," Alex said softly. "I really want to, Olivia… but there's so much to come that he's going to have to deal with. Not only his brother… His books as well…Just about everything he owns was destroyed, Olivia. His home won't be fit to live in for weeks… if he even decides that he's willing to go back there. And then there's his eyes…"

"You're jumping the gun, Alex," Olivia told her gently. "Just go one step at a time, okay? That's all Bobby is going to be doing. He's going to be relying on you like never before. Don't get ahead of him, because if you trip and fall, he's going to fall right along with you."

"Nice sentiment," Alex said bitterly. Olivia hugged her again.

"Still true. Just go one step at a time… one day at a time." She paused, then spoke regretfully. "Alex, I have to get going, but I'll come back later, if you'd like."

"You don't have to," Alex said dully.

"I know I don't," Olivia agreed. "But I want to." She walked around to the door. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Alex watched her go, then sank back into the chair by the bed, once again taking up her silent vigil with her injured partner.

* * *

_tbc..._


	8. An Unexpected Surprise

_A/N_: I know this is just a short chapter, but November has begun, and with it, so too has NaNoWriMo! So things could be a little sketchy at the moment while I try to get my 50,000 words in before the end of November. On the up-side, I hope to have a complete new CI story ready for posting at the end of this month. Yes, I am playing it safe and writing a CI fic for my Nano project. More fool me.

* * *

_Arraignment of Richard Goren,  
__Judge Andrew Conroy presiding_

"Your Honour, I ask that my client be released on his own recognisance…"

"Your Honour, Mr Goren is a definite flight risk," Casey Novak interrupted. "Given the fact that there are two more suspects that haven't been apprehended yet, I ask that bail be denied."

"That is unreasonable," Kristen Adams argued. "My client has not been charged with committing any acts of violence…"

"He has been charged with complicity in an extremely violent attack on a New York police detective, a man who also happens to be Mr Goren's brother," Casey stated. "We have no reason to believe that he won't disappear the moment he sets foot outside."

"I'm inclined to agree with Ms Novak in this instance, Ms Adams," Judge Conroy said firmly. "Given the seriousness of the crimes committed, but taking into account that the police have not yet charged Mr Goren with an actual act of violence, I'm setting bail at fifty thousand dollars."

"Your Honour, that is totally unreasonable!" Adams protested. "My client can't possibly afford that, and he owns nothing of value that he can put up as collateral!"

"Then he'll just have to cool his heels in jail, Ms Adams. And before you argue with me further, I suggest you have a good look at the pictures of Detective Goren's injuries. Then, be thankful that I'm setting bail at fifty thousand, and not one hundred thousand!"

* * *

"Nice job, Casey," Cragen praised her as they exited the courtroom. Casey looked grim.

"It wasn't that difficult. Did you see the look on Conroy's face when he looked at the pictures, and we played that segment of the statement from Detective Goren that Elliot and Olivia recorded? I think he wanted to be sick."

"Well, it buys us time," Cragen murmured. "Now, the slimy son of a bitch is right we're we need him to be for when we question him again. Now, I've got Fin and Munch going to Rikers first thing tomorrow morning to talk to the wardens there that dealt with Richard Goren, and Elliot and Olivia are chasing after the Simon Matic angle."

"And going by what Detective Goren had to say, there is still one person yet to be identified," Casey murmured. She paused in continuing, her gaze going to someone approaching them from the other direction. "Ron," Casey greeted Ron Carver in surprise, "I didn't know you were in court today."

"I wasn't," Carver replied. "Captain Deakins asked me to come by and find out how Richard Goren's arraignment went."

"Bail set at fifty thousand," Casey replied with a smug smile. "He's not going anywhere."

"Very good," Carver murmured approvingly. "Now, if we can locate Mr Matic, then perhaps some more pieces will start falling into place."

"I've organised for a police guard at the Coulter residence," Cragen said. "If Matic tries going after Maggie Coulter, he'll walk straight into a police ambush."

"Well, be aware that the man is a very slick customer," Carver warned Cragen. "It took some skill on Detective Goren's part to nail him the last time. I see no reason to think this will be any different, especially while Richard Goren refuses to talk.

"Oh, he'll talk, Ron," Cragen promised. "Sooner or later, when he realises he's not walking free from this, then he'll talk."

Casey nodded in agreement.

"And we'll be waiting."

* * *

_Major Case Squad_

It was getting late on Monday afternoon. Deakins sighed inwardly as he finished the report he was working on, and finally pushed back from his desk. It had, quite possibly, been the longest day of his life. From arriving that morning and being confronted by the inconceivable callousness of Bobby's fellow detectives, to the time wasted reporting to and placating his superiors upstairs, and finally to the mind-numbing paperwork that he'd spent most of the day completing…

That was the worst of it, having to waste so much time on paperwork, when he should have been at the hospital with Alex… and with Bobby.

That was where he was headed upon finishing up here. Angie had called him a short while ago to suggest that he head straight to the hospital, rather than going home first. She would take a taxi, and meet him there.

Deakins sighed again, aloud this time. Damn, he loved his wife, and he appreciated her no end for the patience and understanding she was showing. He'd said as much to her over the phone, but she'd dismissed his words. She was as concerned For Bobby as he was; especially knowing the detective had no family to be there for him.

Deakins quietly suspected that her concern was equally strong for Alex's wellbeing, but he'd kept that thought to himself. After all, he too was concerned about Alex. However, he knew damn well that no amount of persuasion was going to convince her to move from Bobby's side, particularly while there was no one else to take her place. All he could hope for right then was that the team at Major Case would come to their senses sooner, rather than later, and get a vigil organised.

A shadow fell across his desk, and he looked up to see Detective Chris Lambert standing in the doorway of his office. He didn't look particularly happy, Deakins noticed disinterestedly.

"What is it, Lambert?"

He made no effort to keep his tone neutral. He wanted to get going and get to the hospital, not stop to deal with the trivial concerns of arrogant detectives.

"Sir… Has someone been talking?"

Deakins felt his irritation levels start to climb. Fast.

"About what, Lambert? Hurry up, and get to the point. I want to get to the hospital."

Was it his imagination, or did Lambert just flinch…?

"Well… About Goren, Sir."

"I imagine word would have gotten around by now about what happened to him. Why? You think it should be a squad secret?"

There was no mistaking it that time – Lambert definitely flinched.

"Not about what happened to him, Captain. I mean… about us, and not getting a vigil organised for him."

Deakins fell silent, staring at Lambert piercingly. The other man literally quailed under the intensity of his captain's stare. A moment later, he reluctantly elaborated.

"Well, it's just… Blake and I just got back from the One-Nine…"

"Spit it out, Lambert. I'm in a hurry."

"Sir, it was like walking into an icebox. From the moment we got there, we were treated like… Well, like any mutt off the street. It wasn't pleasant. When Blake asked what was with the attitude, someone said, 'that's what you get for abandoning one of your own'. So we wondered who'd been spreading the word, you know?"

Deakins felt a sudden, smug surge of satisfaction that he had to struggle to contain. He suspected he knew. After all, it would only have taken one word from Alex, and Benson and Stabler would have spread the word very quickly."

"I don't know, Lambert. But maybe you should be more concerned about your own attitude than anyone else's."

"Sir…"

"I don't have time, Detective. I need to get to the hospital. Goren should at least know he hasn't been completely abandoned."

He stepped past Lambert and kept walking, deliberately quashing the desire to look back.

* * *

Deakins had the lift to himself on the way down from the eleventh floor. It was just beginning to look as though he would have an uninterrupted ride down to the car park when the lift slid to a halt at the first floor. The doors slid open, and he found himself face to face with Mike Logan, from Staten Island.

"Captain Deakins, I was hoping I'd catch you," he exclaimed and, much to Deakins' dismay, stepped into the lift with him.

"Logan, I'm sorry but whatever this is about, it's going to have to wait. There's somewhere I have to be."

"Sir, it's about Goren."

Deakins' stomach lurched slightly. What now…?

"What's happened to him?" Logan went on, sounding genuinely concerned. "I know something's happened, but the stories I've been hearing all day keep changing. At first, he was just knocked around some, and then the rumours just kept getting worse. Last thing I heard he was… You know. I figured the best way to find out the truth was to come here."

"He's not dead," Deakins answered firmly, and felt a small rush of warmth at the visible relief in Logan's face. Encouraged, he went on quietly. "He was violently assaulted in his home some time over Saturday night. A neighbour found him just after seven o'clock last night, barely alive. He's in ICU at St Clare's right now."

"It's… bad?"

Deakins nodded.

"Yes," he confirmed softly. "It's very bad."

Logan sucked in his breath in a long hiss.

"Christ. Any clue as to who did it?"

Deakins hesitated, then answered carefully.

"You'd have to ask Benson and Stabler from SVU that. They've got the case."

Logan slowed to a halt behind Deakins.

"Special Victims Unit? You mean… he was _raped_? Oh, fuck…" He drew in another long breath. "Sir, is there any chance I could get in to see him at the hospital? I know I'm not family, but I'd like him to know he's got my support."

Deakins had no hope of keeping his expression neutral at the sincerity in Logan's voice, coupled with the open offer of support. Oh, what an irony, he thought, that the people Goren worked with every day had turned their backs on him when he needed them most, but a man with whom he had worked just the once (or, more accurately, butted heads with) had come running.

Without a moment's hesitation, Deakins motioned to his car.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride. That's where I'm going right now."

* * *

"I'd like to put my name down for the vigil, if that's okay," Logan said tentatively. "I know these things are usually kept within the squad, but…"

"I'd love to say yes, Logan, but the truth is, nothing's been organised."

Logan blinked in surprise.

"You mean no one's had time to do it yet?"

"No. I mean no one intends on doing it at all."

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it again, confused to the point of speechlessness. Reluctantly, Deakin elaborated.

"When I told the rest of the squad this morning, they were only worried about who would have to take on Goren and Eames' case load."

"So… What you're saying is that none of them have set foot near the hospital?"

"Not one of them."

Logan fell silent, a dark look on his face. Deakins spared him a brief, curious glance, and then returned his attention to the road.

* * *

Word spreads fast at any given time, in any given situation. It never takes long for neighbourhood gossip to stretch far and wide, and in that respect the NYPD was not unlike any suburban neighbourhood. Within hours of Elliot and Olivia returning to SVU headquarters and telling their immediate colleagues that Bobby Goren's fellow Major Case detectives had refused to organise a vigil, or even go to see him in hospital, word had spread to all the surrounding precincts.

By the time Richard Goren was arraigned, and the judge set bail to the tune of fifty thousand dollars, word had reached just about all the precincts in the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Queens precincts.

By the time Mike Logan caught up with Jim Deakins in One Police Plaza, word was spreading fast through the precincts in the Bronx and Manhattan and calls were flooding into SVU, with cops of all ranks wanting to volunteer to take a watch outside Bobby Goren's hospital room.

By the time Deakins and Logan arrived at the door of Bobby's room in ICU, both were startled to find two detectives sitting there, watching everyone who came and went with piercing stares.

"Detectives…?" Deakins started to ask, feeling puzzled. Both stood up quickly, recognising Deakins on sight.

"I'm Matt Braxton, Captain. This is my partner, Eric Kozlowski."

"Please, don't take this the wrong way… but what are you both doing here?"

Both men exchanged brief grins.

"Word got around that no one from Major Case had bothered to organise a vigil for Bobby Goren," Kozlowski explained, "so Elliot Stabler from SVU organised one instead. They put the word out to all the precincts for volunteers to stand watch. Just between us, sir, I think they got enough volunteers to do twenty-four hour rotations until Goren's out of hospital, and none of us will have to do double-shift."

"We hope you don't mind," Braxton said quietly. "But no brother should have to be in hospital alone like this. And it stinks that no one from your squad has the balls to even come and see him. Detective Eames not included, that is. No offence, sir…"

"None taken," Deakins said, feeling warm relief slowly seep into his body. "Thankyou both for being here. I know Goren will appreciate it."

He and Logan stepped past them with a nod, and went all the way into the room.

* * *

Alex wasn't alone. Lewis had returned, and though he smiled easily enough in greeting at Deakins, that smile faltered visibly when he saw Logan. Alex caught the change in his expression, and looked around to see who was there.

"Logan?"

Logan offered her a crooked smile.

"I heard he'd been hurt," he said simply by way of explanation. Alex sighed faintly.

"That's the biggest understatement I've heard yet. Logan, this is Lewis, Bobby's best friend. Lewis, Detective Mike Logan, from Staten Island."

The two men shook hands, and then Logan returned his attention to Bobby.

"Is he… awake?" he asked, peering nervously at the injured man in the hospital bed.

"No, not at the moment. He's been pretty much out to it since Benson and Stabler were here this morning. He didn't have much energy to start with when he first woke up, and it wiped him out, giving them that statement."

"Well, it wasn't for nothing," Deakins assured her. "Just so you know, Richard Goren has been charged with conspiracy to commit a violent assault. Judge Conroy set bail at fifty thousand. The son of a bitch isn't going anywhere."

Alex sighed softly. "Thank god. Now they just need to find the other bastards."

"Hang on a second," Logan said, looking to Deakins with a frown. "Did you just say Richard _Goren_?"

"That's right," Deakins confirmed softly. "Richard Goren, Bobby's older brother."

"Oh, man… That sucks."

Alex couldn't contain the smile that fought its way onto her face.

"That's two massive understatements in less than five minutes, Logan. Going to go for the trifecta?"

He quirked a smile at her, but didn't reply to her challenge. Instead, he spoke to her with gentle concern.

"Eames, don't take this the wrong way, but you look wasted."

"Gee, thanks, Logan. Could you tell me just how I'm supposed to take that?"

"I just mean you're exhausted, and you look it. How long have you been here?"

"Since he got moved in here from Recovery some time after midnight," Lewis put in quickly, winning himself a dirty look from the detective in question.

"I'm not leaving him alone," Alex said stubbornly. "Lewis, you said yourself that you can't stay all night. And you can't either, Captain."

"Did you happen to notice who's just outside the door?" Deakins asked gently. Alex nodded.

"I know, and I appreciate it. So will Bobby. But it's not the same as waking up, and knowing that there's someone right here beside you."

"I'll stay," Logan offered. Alex stared at him in disbelief.

"You? Why?"

Logan shrugged. "Because you need to go home and get some proper rest. You can't call five minute naps in a hospital chair proper rest. And because I want to. I'm offering as a fellow cop, Eames. I'll stay here with Goren until you come back tomorrow morning. I swear I won't leave the room, not for any reason."

Alex stared hard, looking as though she didn't want to believe him. Finally, though, sheer exhaustion won her over.

"Okay," she conceded. "But I'm not leaving yet."

"Hey, it's cool. I'll give you a ride home when I go in a couple of hours, Alex," Lewis offered, perhaps a touch eagerly. A moment later he flushed red at the distinctly threatening looks from both Deakins and Logan, and the suspicious look from Alex. "_Just_ a ride home, I swear it."

Alex finally conceded with a weary nod, too tired to argue anymore.

"All right."

* * *

_tbc..._


	9. Late Night Visitations

_A/N_: In the middle of all this NaNo madness, I haven't forgotten my other obligations! Here's a new, short update, and hopefully I'll be able to provide an update shortly for Remembrance as well.

Thanks to all who have been reviewing, and thanks so much for your patience and understanding. I am nearly halfway there with my NaNo story, and I promise to post it here when it is done.

* * *

_ICU  
St Clare's Hospital,  
some time just before midnight_

Two hours into his watch, and Logan was half wishing he'd not agreed to this. Not that he wasn't willing to sit with Bobby, but the truth was it was boring as hell. Even the cops outside the door had presented little opportunity to keep his interest.

Sighing a little, Logan got up and walked over to the window, looking out at the nightscape of New York. It was a Monday night, and Monday night was always reserved for a visit to the nearest bar. His buddies would have gone there without him, either unaware or unconcerned about his current location. It was hard not to feel just a little bit resentful that he had effectively cheated himself out of a few much-needed beers in the company of his friends.

Not that he was laying blame, and especially not on Bobby, not by a long shot. He had volunteered for this, and he would sit it out for as long as he was needed.

The fact that he was there at all had nothing to do with feeling like he owed anyone anything – although, truth be told, he felt he owed Bobby big time for saving both their butts when they'd been trapped inside that prison. But this was not about obligation – not that sort of obligation, at least. Bobby Goren was a cop who had been badly hurt, and needed support. For the life of him, Logan couldn't fathom why Bobby's fellow Major Case detectives seemed to have such an issue with that concept.

A soft moan reached Logan's ears, and he turned back in time to see Bobby's head turning from side to side just a little.

"Alex…" he whispered, and Logan felt a shudder pass through him at how weak his colleague's voice sounded.

Logan walked back to the bedside, and spoke gently to him.

"She went home to get some rest, Bobby. Deakins insisted on it. But she'll be back here first thing in the morning."

Bobby suddenly went very quiet. Logan was just starting to wonder whether he'd even woken up at all, and if it had just been his imagination, when Bobby spoke again.

"Logan?"

"Yeah," Logan confirmed, unable to keep a smile completely off his face at Bobby's incredulous tone. "Yeah, it's me. How are you feeling? Anything that I can get for you?"

"Is… Is there any water there?"

"Yeah. Hang on a second."

He poured some water into a plastic cup, filling it to the halfway point, then looked back uncertainly at Bobby.

"How do you want to do this? With a straw? Or can you manage it just out of the cup?"

"Straw," Bobby mumbled. He hesitated, then added softly, "You'll need to… to…"

"Hold it for you?" Logan suggested lightly. "I think I can manage that. Okay, here it is."

He held the cup close, waiting patiently while Bobby sipped at the water. When he'd had enough, Logan set the water down on the table, and then pulled his chair up close to the bedside.

"Feeling a bit more awake now?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered quietly, though he sounded to Logan as though he wished he weren't. An awkward silence reigned for a couple of minutes, and then Bobby finally broke it. "Did Deakins ask you to come? Or… or Alex?"

Logan chuckled softly.

"I'll let that slide, because you can't possibly be thinking straight if you thought for even a second that Eames would have asked me to come."

Bobby was clearly confused.

"Then who…?"

"I came on my own, Bobby. No one asked me to be here. I'm here because I want to be here. Now stop stressing yourself out over it."

The statement was met with a long silence as Bobby worked that over in his mind. Finally, he spoke softly.

"Thanks, Logan."

Logan smiled a little. "Yeah, well, I'd like to think you'd do the same for me."

"I would," Bobby confirmed. "Thanks for… for giving Alex a break, too."

"Yeah, well, she looked almost as bad as you."

The comment was met with a long silence, and for a long moment Logan thought he'd just made a major blunder. Then, to his relief, a smile broke out across Bobby's face, and he laughed softly.

"She'd cheerfully shoot you for that."

"Not if you don't tell her I said it. C'mon, pal, you wouldn't turn on a brother, would you?"

At that, the smile faded very abruptly from Bobby's face, and Logan realised too late what he'd said.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," he said. "I wasn't thinking. I shouldn't have said that."

"Not your fault," Bobby whispered. "I just… I… I don't…"

He fell silent, and Logan waited a minute before speaking softly.

"If you want to talk, I'm a pretty good listener. For the most part, anyway."

Bobby let his breath out in a rush.

"My brother… He set me up."

"Yeah…" Logan muttered. "I heard."

"I know we never really got along," Bobby went on, his voice trembling just slightly. "But I never thought he'd… he'd do anything like that to me. Even if we weren't really friends… I should have been able to trust him, Logan. My own brother…"

"I know, it stinks," Logan agreed. "But you know as well as I do how families can fall apart. We see it every day. The same blood doesn't always make for good trust."

Bobby fell silent once more, and Logan felt the first serious twinges of concern. Though he wasn't the best at dealing with victims, he had enough experience that he could tell something more was eating away at Bobby. He was about to try another tact when Bobby spoke once more.

"My… My neighbours… They heard noises… Sounds of a fight… But none of them called 911. And… And… someone called my apartment. I remember the phone ringing. Whoever attacked me… They picked up the phone next to my… my bed, then hung it up… Then they left it off the hook. Whoever called… They could have sent help… but they didn't."

Logan felt his stomach churn unpleasantly as he began to understand the implication of Bobby's words. More than one person had had the opportunity to help him, and all had ignored the warning signs that he was in trouble. He grimaced. No wonder the guy was feeling let down.

Logan desperately wanted to say something to help, only to find he just didn't know what to say.

Bobby lay silently, making no effort to talk to his companion. He was finding it hard enough to deal with everything in his own mind without coping with Logan as well. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate what appeared to be a genuine offer of solidarity and understanding, but the hard truth was that everything just hurt too damned much to be able to deal with any of it.

His brother… His neighbours… Whoever it was that called... He even found himself harbouring anger towards Alex, and yet he logically knew there was no way on God's earth that she could have known he was in trouble. He knew, without a shred of doubt in his tired mind, that if Alex had been given even the smallest hint that he was in any sort of trouble, she would have come running – just as he would for her. So Alex was not a fair target for his anger, and he made a valiant effort to turn it away from her.

But for those people who had had some warning signs of trouble, and had done nothing… The anger and emotional hurt he felt almost outweighed the physical pain he was in. He couldn't begin to find words to describe how he felt.

And then there was his brother…

It was true, what he had said to Logan about not really being friends with his brother. They had never really been friends in any sense of the word. But Richie was still his brother… Still his own flesh and blood, and Bobby had honestly thought that would have counted for something. Obviously he was wrong.

What really stung was the knowledge that of the two of them, Richie had always been their parents' favourite. His mother's favourite before she became sick, and his father's favourite afterwards. It had _hurt_, knowing that nothing he did had ever been good enough in his father's eyes, while Richie only had to walk a straight line to be praised.

Okay, perhaps that was an exaggeration, Bobby conceded reluctantly, but not by much. As the oldest, Richie had always been their parents' special son, the one who was going to do something with his life.

The irony almost made Bobby laugh. Richie was the one who had ended up more or less destitute, his life wasted by the casual use of drugs, and a severe addiction to gambling that had resulted in him committing various crimes, while Bobby had gone out and forged a career for himself. A career that was now in threat because of that same selfish, vindictive brother…

A choked sob escaped him before he could stop it, and a moment later he felt a hand come to rest lightly on his shoulder.

"What is it?" Logan asked in concern. "Are you hurting?"

Really, Logan couldn't have made a bigger understatement if he'd tried. Yes, he wanted to scream, he _was_ hurting. He was hurting far worse than he ever imagined could have been possible and, more than anything, he wanted to know _why_. Why had his brother betrayed him? Why had he sold him out like that? Why…?

"I can't answer why, Bobby. Only your brother can answer that."

Bobby sucked in his breath sharply. He hadn't said that aloud, had he? Apparently he had.

"I just wish I knew," he whispered.

"You wanna ask him for yourself?"

The simple question caused Bobby's breath to catch in his throat. Yes, he wanted to know, but at the same time he honestly felt he never wanted to speak to his brother again. At this point, never seeing him again didn't seem as though it would be a problem…

"I don't want to talk to him… Never…" Bobby said hoarsely.

Logan wasn't entirely surprised. He was at a loss, though, for what he could possibly do or say. He was still racking his mind for something to say when movement in the doorway drew his attention, and he looked up to see an unfamiliar man standing there.

Immediately going on the defensive, Logan stepped quickly around the bed, putting himself between Bobby and the newcomer.

The man was tall – not as tall as Bobby, but he had a similar build. A pair of dark brown eyes peered at Logan from behind a pair of glasses with thick lenses.

Logan couldn't keep a frown off his face as the man tried to look around him at Bobby. Were the cops outside the door asleep?

"You lose your way, buddy?"

The man shook his head.

"No, I don't think so."

At the sound of the new voice, Bobby's head turned a little.

"D… Danny?"

Logan looked around at Bobby in surprise, and the man took the opportunity to step around him and up to the bedside.

"Yeah, Bobby, it's me. Oh, man… Look at you…"

Logan coughed loudly, drawing the attention of the newcomer. Once he had his attention, Logan offered the man a half smile, and stuck out his hand.

"Detective Mike Logan. And you are?"

"Sorry," the man apologised, and accepted the offered hand. "My name's Danny Cooper. I'm Bobby's cousin."

Logan blinked in surprise.

"Cousin?"

"Bobby's old man was my mom's brother." He turned back to his cousin. "I came as quick as I could, after I got the call from the hospital. I just got off the red eye flight from DC."

"How… How'd they find you?"

"Apparently one of your buddies knew, and let them clued them in. Some guy called Lewis…?"

Bobby sighed faintly. Lewis…

"I… I'm glad you're here."

All of a sudden, Logan felt like an intruder. Feeling intensely self-conscious, he took a step towards the door.

"I might go… if you're planning on staying, that is."

Danny nodded.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Logan…" Bobby said softly.

"Yeah?" Logan asked.

Bobby tried to lift his bandaged hand off the bed but he lacked the strength, and the limb collapsed against the bed again. A sigh of frustration escaped his lips.

"Take it easy," Logan murmured, stepping in and laying a hand gently on his shoulder. "I'm here."

"Thankyou…" Bobby said softly. "I… I just wanted say… thankyou. For… For staying here… with me."

_Wow_, Logan thought. _That couldn't have been easy to say._

"Anytime, pal," Logan told him firmly. "Listen, I'll come by again tomorrow evening, if you want me to."

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled. "That'd be good."

Logan nodded, then remembered Bobby couldn't see him, and spoke quickly.

"Okay, then. I… I'll see you later."

"That a friend of yours?" Danny asked once Logan had gone. Bobby grimaced a little.

"Not… Not exactly."

"Define 'not exactly'."

"I worked with him a few months ago on a case."

"Let me guess. Two alpha males, both trying to be the one in control."

"Something like that," Bobby admitted. Danny chuckled.

"Well, he obviously has enough respect for you that he was willing to sit here with you. And what about those guys outside the door? They from your squad?"

"No," Bobby answered tentatively. "Alex told me that SVU organised a vigil, because no one from Major Case would."

Danny bit back a sigh. He could hear the pain in his cousin's voice as clear as anything.

"Who's Alex? Is he your partner?"

A small smile touched Bobby's lips. He remembered making the mistake of that assumption himself before being introduced to Alex for the first time.

"Yes, _she's_ my partner," he confirmed. Danny laughed.

"Oh. Sorry, bud." He paused, looking up and down the length of his cousin's battered body once more. "Look at you," he said again, this time with a hint of anger in his voice. "Bastards really worked you over, didn't they? Has anyone been arrested yet?"

Bobby sucked in a long breath. Did he dare tell Danny the truth?

"They… They haven't arrested anyone for the actual assault yet," he said carefully. Danny's gaze narrowed.

"But they have arrested someone. Who?"

"Richie," Bobby confessed softly. Danny froze, his face going positively white.

"You… You're not serious… What the fuck did your brother have to do with it?"

"He… he set me up, Danny."

"That son of a bitch," Danny whispered, and even Bobby winced at the vehemence that Danny poured into those words. "I always knew that piece of shit was no good, but your old man wouldn't ever hear a wrong word against him. Goddamn it…"

"Please, Danny, don't," Bobby pleaded. The sheer pain and misery in his voice cut through Danny's anger like a knife, piercing him right to the heart. The older man leaned over and gently closed his hand over Bobby's shoulder.

"I haven't seen you hurting this much since that night you turned up at our place, covered in blood."

Bobby was silent for a long moment before venturing another grim revelation.

"They… They didn't just beat me up, Danny."

Danny felt a chill race down his spine.

"You don't mean…"

"They raped me," Bobby whispered, his voice cracking audibly from the strain as he struggled to face the shocking reality in his own mind. "They raped me, Danny… Both of them…"

"Do you know who it was?" Danny asked softly, fighting the desire to cry himself even as he watched his cousin struggle to hold back tears that seemed determined to come.

"I… I never saw their faces. They… They wore masks, at least to start with."

Danny bit down lightly on his lower lip.

"So there were two of them. Neither one spoke to you at all that you remember?"

"I heard them talk to each other, but… but not clearly enough to understand. I don't think either of them said anything to… to…"

Abruptly, Bobby trailed off. Danny watched him intently, wondering whether he was remembering something, or whether the exhaustion had just become too much.

"What is it, Bobby?" he asked finally. "Do you remember something?"

Bobby shuddered violently as he came back to the present.

"One of them spoke… spoke to me… After he raped me the first… the first time…"

Danny felt another chill at Bobby's choice of phrase. _The first time…?_ Just how many times did those sick fucks assault him…? He said nothing, though, waiting patiently for Bobby to work through his memory.

"I… I remember his breath on my face and… and he laughed… He said… He said just three words…"

"What three words?" Danny asked when Bobby fell silent and didn't seem intent on elaborating.

"_I got you_," Bobby whispered, feeling sick to his stomach. "Simon Matic…"

"You recognise one of them?" Danny asked.

"Yes," Bobby confirmed, his voice barely audible. "It was Simon Matic. But… he should have still been in prison…"

"Do you want me to get one of those cops in here?" Danny asked, but Bobby shook his head.

"No. I… I'll tell Alex when she comes back."

"Okay, then," Danny murmured. "Why don't you try and get some more sleep, bud?"

"You… You aren't leaving, are you?"

Danny patted Bobby's shoulder reassuringly.

"I said I wasn't going anywhere, and I'm not. I promise you, Bobby, I'll be right here when you wake up again."

Bobby didn't respond to that, and Danny realised with concern that his cousin didn't really believe the promise. He tried again, trying to put it in terms that Bobby would accept.

"Listen to me, Bobby. I took care of you once before, and I'll do it again gladly. You might not be twelve anymore, but you're still my little cuz. And I'm telling you, I'm not leaving you. I _will_ be here when you wake up next."

"Okay," Bobby whispered finally.

Danny sat back a little, but still kept one hand on Bobby's arm for reassurance. Only a few minutes passed before Bobby's breathing slowed and evened out, telling Danny that he was asleep. He watched his cousin's bruised and battered face with growing distress and anger.

He'd never liked Richie, very much, but now that vague sense of dislike had descended into outright loathing. He couldn't begin to fathom how someone could sell out his own brother, so how must Bobby be feeling? It was the ultimate betrayal, and he wished heartily that Richard Goren Snr was still alive so that he could see for himself what a waste of space his oldest son had become.

Danny slumped back in the chair, fighting to regain some self-control. Judging by the way Bobby had reluctantly accepted the promise that Danny would be there when he woke up, it seemed Bobby's trust in others had been deeply shaken. He could only hope it hadn't been shattered altogether.

His expression hardened with grim determination. He'd told his wife before leaving DC that he would do whatever was necessary to help his cousin, even if it meant taking him away from New York and home to Washington DC, to look after him there. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary, but the option was there, and his wife had readily agreed.

Danny sighed softly. He _would_ help Bobby, and hopefully he would be able to do it together with his cousin's partner, because he suspected she'd be none-too-receptive to the idea of him being taken away from New York. One way or another, he thought sadly, as he settled down for the long night ahead.

* * *

_tbc..._


	10. Blast from the Past

_Rikers Prison_

"Richard Goren, huh?" warden Greg Miller mused. "Yeah, I remember that slimy bastard. First couple of months here, he got roused on by pretty much everyone. Ended up in the hospital one time. Then we switched him to new accommodation after about four months, and everything settled down. A couple of guys took care of him, you know?"

"A couple of guys," Fin echoed. "Which couple of guys would that be?"

"Ah… Just a second…" Miller said as he ruffled through his notes. "Yeah, here we are. The guy we put him in with was Simon Matic. Matic put in a special request, asked for Goren to be put in with him. And there was one other guy that joined their little twosome around two years later, and made it a trio. Another guy… Damn, can't remember his name. Hang on a sec…"

Fin and Munch watched silently as Miller got up and stuck his head out the door of the office, hollering to another warden.

"Andy! Come over here for a second!"

Another older man crossed the corridor and came into the room at Miller's beckoning.

"This is Andy Crenshaw," Miller explained to the detectives. "Andy, you remember Richard Goren?"

Crenshaw grunted.

"Sure I remember him. He's the older brother of that detective from Major Case, the one that's so… _popular_ with a lot of our inmates."

Miller's eyes widened with realisation.

"Damn, so _that's_ why that name is familiar."

Crenshaw rolled his eyes.

"That's great. You never made the connection, but pretty much every inmate in this block did." He looked across at Fin and Munch. "There are more than just a few cons locked up in this block courtesy of Detective Goren. They have their own little support group going, you know? 'I Survived A Robert Goren Interrogation'. Anyway, when Richard Goren arrived here, he caught it bad from the rest of the inmates. Heard him crying in his cell pretty much every night for the first couple of months, and then some of the guys laid into him so bad he was in the hospital for a month."

"All because they're pissed off at his brother?" Munch wondered, and Crenshaw nodded.

"Hell, yeah. There's a lot of suppressed tension in this place, and it doesn't take much to spark it off. Those guys, they figured they couldn't get back at the guy that put them in prison, so his brother was the next best thing. We ended up having to put Richard into protective custody. Then we got a new prisoner in, a guy called Simon Matic. He was another one of Detective Goren's conquests, so we were told. We figured we were going to have to keep the older brother in the protective wing for his whole prison term when _that_ guy arrived. He was vicious, a real sadist. Anyway, he found out Richard was here, found out who he was, and then he asked the head warden to put Richard in his cell with him. Said he'd protect the guy, that it wasn't his fault who his brother was. He had to ask a few times, but Adams finally gave in. Richard Goren was put in with Simon Matic. Next thing we know, the two of them are best buddies. One of the usual crowd tried beating up on Richard the day we let him out of the protective wing. Matic beat the guy unconscious, and said anyone else who even looked at Richard the wrong way was going to get the same. After that, everyone left Richard alone."

"So who was the third guy?" Fin asked.

"A kid that came in about eighteen months or so later," Crenshaw answered. "He was in for murder… theoretical life sentence."

"Theoretical?" Munch echoed. "How do you mean, theoretical?"

"Well, this kid was in contact with the Feds about six months after he arrived. He offered to snitch on a couple of the Masucci family in exchange for release from prison. He must have had some pretty hot info, because they jumped at the offer. He was out six months later, around the same time that Richard Goren finished his sentence, and Matic's lawyer appealed and got him before the parole board early… Got the guy released for good behaviour, can you believe it? But while he was here, the kid was pretty cosy with Richard and Matic."

"What was his name?" Fin asked, getting tired of being danced around by the talkative warden.

"Ah… Richard. Richard Cozza."

"Richard Cozza?" Munch echoed, frowning as he scribbled the name down.

"Yeah," Miller answered. "Except, everyone called him Chops."

* * *

"Chops?" Cragen echoed incredulously when Fin and Munch arrived back at SVU after their early morning trip to Rikers.

"It's on the guy's birth certificate," Munch said as he flipped through his notes. "Richard Chops Cozza. He was in for murder… Matic was there for kidnap and rape… and big brother Goren was in for violent assault."

"Interesting combination," Cragen muttered. "And they all were released around the same time. Now, if Cozza was in for murder, and Matic was there for rape and kidnap, how the hell did they get early releases?"

"Matic got out for good behaviour. His lawyer appealed, and got him before the parole board early. Cozza made a deal with the Feds. He agreed to testify against members of the Masucci family, and they cut a deal for him to get him out of prison."

"A murderer and a rapist," Cragen growled. "Christ, what a combination."

"And Richard Goren makes three," Fin said. "According to the warden, Richie's first few of months in Rikers were brutal, and they had to put him into the protective wing. Then he was shifted into a cell with Simon Matic, and the other inmates suddenly stopped harassing him."

"What did Goren say his brother said he owed?" Munch asked.

"A quarter of a million in protection money," Elliot spoke up grimly.

"Anybody else reading between the lines here?" Olivia asked. Cragen nodded.

"We have two scumbags that Goren had a hand in putting away, and probably pissed off big time in the process."

"And we have his older brother," Munch said, "who's more or less resentful of little brother…"

"Cozza and Matic make a big deal of looking after Richie, and then when they get out, they put an ultimatum to him. Come up with the cash, or hand little brother to them on a platter."

"Except, they demand an amount they know he won't be able to come up with," Fin concluded, "because what they really want is their chance at some serious payback."

"According to Goren, Richie pushed pretty hard to get the money out of him," Elliot said quietly. "And he said that the consequences were on Goren's head for not paying him the money."

"Richie knew what was going to happen," Olivia said, shaking her head. "He must have had some idea."

Cragen looked at Olivia and Elliot grimly.

"Leave the Matic angle for the moment. Get the prison, and speak to Richard Goren again. See if you can't get him to confirm any of this. You probably won't have any luck – the guy's probably more scared of what Matic and Cozza will do to him if he blabs than he is of going back to prison – but try anyway. Then get yourselves back to St Clare's to talk to Goren again. We need him to be able to name at least one of these mutts."

"And if he can't?" Elliot asked, frowning. "We can't bully him into saying anything that he isn't ready to say, Captain."

"Just try," Cragen told him. "Maybe we'll get lucky and one of these assholes will have said something to him that he'll actually remember. Now, get going."

* * *

Deakins sat back in his seat slowly, wishing desperately that he didn't have to be in his office right then, but at the same time relishing the fact that the arrogant detectives of the Major Case Squad had well and truly been dealt a massive blow to their collective ego. Word had finally reached the squad early that morning that SVU had taken it on themselves to organise a vigil for Bobby, and that it had started the previous evening. That news had gone down like a lead balloon with the rest of Major Case, and it had only served to aggravate further when word got back to the Major Case team just how many cops from how many different precincts had responded to the call put out by Elliot Stabler.

As a result, the atmosphere in the Major Case bullpen was chilly, to say the least. Deakins couldn't stop the small, grim smile that found its way onto his lips. Actually, he would have been more inclined to say it was positively frigid.

The so-called 'elite' detectives of Major Case had been well and truly shown up by the team from Special Victims Unit, and Deakins couldn't be happier about it.

To his private relief, though, it seemed that some of the detectives were finally starting to come round and relent from their obnoxious attitudes, and he knew for a fact that two in particular – Jared Nolan and Carl Boyd – had actually left early in order to go and see Bobby at St Clare's. He was sorry they'd had to be guilt-tripped into it, but it was ultimately their own fault. If they'd just done the right thing to begin with…

His thoughts derailed as his phone rang. Muttering a curse under his breath, Deakins answered it with extreme reluctance.

"Deakins."

On the other end of the line, Deakins was answered by one of the administrative workers at the reception counter on the ground floor.

"Captain Deakins, I have Mrs Susan Coulter to see you."

Deakins' heart skipped a beat. That was a name he had not heard for near on three years. Why, he wondered, was she coming to see him now? When the man who had kidnapped her and her daughters, and raped her oldest daughter, was locked up?

"All right, Katie," he said finally. "Send her up."

In the time it took for an officer to bring Susan Coulter up to Deakins' office, a dozen scenarios had run through his mind, each more unlikely than the last. By the time she was walking through his door, Deakins could honestly say he had not the slightest idea why she was there.

"Mrs Coulter, it's good to see you again," he said, shaking hands with her. She didn't return his smile.

"I wish I could say the same, Captain Deakins."

His smile faltered.

"Please, have a seat," he offered, and she sat down carefully on the edge of one chair. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"You could start by telling me why that monster that raped my daughter was allowed out of prison."

Deakins froze, staring at her in shock.

"Simon Matic is free? That's not possible…"

"I assure you, Captain Deakins, it's very possible. I was informed by a Captain Cragen just yesterday that he'd been released, and they were putting a watch on my home in case he went after Maggie. She's beside herself, Captain. She's terrified to go outside. I want to know, how could this have happened? Your detectives… Detectives Eames and Goren… they promised Maggie after the sentencing that Matic wouldn't ever go free, and yet that's exactly what's happened!"

Deakins felt horribly light-headed all of a sudden. Cragen had called her… That could mean only one thing. Simon Matic was a prime suspect for the assault on Bobby…

Abruptly, more pieces of a very ugly puzzle began to fall into place.

"…want them to explain it to me, and to my daughter!"

He blinked hard, coming back to reality to realise she had spoken to him, but he'd not heard a word of it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Coulter, I didn't…"

Her face flushed red with anger.

"I said, where is Detective Goren and Detective Eames? I want them to explain to my daughter why she can't feel safe going out our front door any longer."

Deakins' stomach threatened to empty right then and there, and it was only a supreme effort that kept that from happening.

"Mrs Coulter… Detectives Eames and Goren are not available…"

He could have kicked himself. It was, quite possibly, the lamest line that he could have pulled out. She stared back at him, her expression turning positively dangerous.

"Really. Well, perhaps the media would like to speak to me instead."

"Mrs Coulter… my detectives are at St Clare's Hospital right at this moment." Well, it wasn't a lie, he thought ruefully. Not exactly… "Now, I promise you that I had no idea Simon Matic was out of prison, and believe me when I say I'll be demanding answers. And the reason why you heard this from Captain Don Cragen and not me is because it's Captain Cragen's unit that's handling the case."

"He's already attacked someone else, hasn't he?" Susan said hoarsely. It took all of Deakins' willpower to maintain eye contact with her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Coulter. I really can't discuss that with you."

A puzzled frown creased her forehead as her stressed mind slowly began to digest his words.

"You said your detectives are at the hospital…"

"Yes, that's right."

She started a little, a horrified look dawning on her face as she quickly read between the lines of what he was telling her.

"Oh no… Dear God, no… Not Detective Eames…?"

Deakins felt his stomach roll horribly and, suddenly, he could no longer find the strength of mind to evade her questions.

"No, Mrs Coulter, it wasn't Detective Eames who was attacked. It was Detective Goren."

Susan Coulter's face went white from shock.

"Wh… What?"

"It's Detective Goren who is in the hospital," Deakins explained, wondering silently that he was able to keep his voice steady. "He was violently assaulted in his home some time over the weekend."

"Oh… oh no… Is he… Will he be all right?"

"He'll live," Deakins answered quietly. "Beyond that, we just don't know yet."

Susan sat back, ashen-faced from shock and rendered momentarily speechless.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, all aggravation suddenly gone from her voice. "I had no idea." She looked up at him in distress. "Is it really that bad?"

Deakins watched her for a long moment, considering how much to tell her.

"It's bad," he confirmed softly. "He has a lot of injuries."

_There was an understatement to rival all understatements._

"Did they… Was he raped?"

"Yes," Deakins answered simply. "Mrs Coulter, if you like, I'll speak to Captain Cragen, but the truth is I don't think your daughter is in any danger. It's entirely likely that he's not even in New York anymore."

She stared at him for a long moment before nodding.

"I believe you." She stood up slowly, and Deakins quickly rose up as well. "Captain Deakins, would you mind if I told Maggie what's happened? The reason is, when we were told Matic had been released, Maggie was so angry…"

"She was angry and Goren and Eames," Deakins guessed, and Susan nodded.

"Yes… but particularly at Detective Goren. She felt that she'd been lied to. I want her to understand that wasn't the case. And… if it was that monster that attacked Detective Goren, then I think Maggie would at least understand some of what he's been through."

Deakins couldn't deny that logic.

"That's all right by me, Mrs Coulter."

Susan paused at the door.

"I'm sorry for barging in like this, Captain Deakins. If I'd had any idea…"

"Please don't apologise," he told her. "You couldn't have known, and I think Captain Cragen's unit has been careful about not releasing anything to the media just yet."

She stared at him, then offered him a small smile.

"Thankyou for your understanding. And please, tell Detective Goren our prayers are with him."

Deakins nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He watched as a uniformed officer escorted Susan Coulter out of the Major Case bullpen, and back towards the lifts, waiting until she was out of sight before slumping back into his chair.

"Excuse me… Captain Deakins?"

Deakins looked up, barely able to hide his frustration. _What now_…

"What is it, Hanlon?"

Terry Hanlon took a tentative further step into the office. He'd drawn the short straw to come and speak to Deakins on behalf of the group of the Major Case detectives on duty at that moment, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Sir…"

"Well, Hanlon, what is it?" Deakins snapped.

"Sir, those of us on duty at the moment… We'd like permission to finish up early."

Deakins stared piercingly at the detective.

"Why?"

"Well… We put some money together, and we want to go and buy something for Goren, and then go and see him in hospital."

Somehow, Deakins kept a neutral look on his face, though his hopes suddenly shot skyward that perhaps the animosity displayed by his detectives towards Bobby was finally abating.

"If you're doing it purely out of guilt, Detective…"

"No, Captain. Well… Not totally out of guilt. But it's just… Blake got a call from Nolan not long ago. He and Boyd went to see Goren in hospital."

"Yes, I know, Hanlon. Get to the point

"Blake said Nolan was pretty shook up by it. The thing is… When you told us yesterday morning about what had happened, I don't think it really registered with any of us just how bad it really was."

Deakins' jaw tightened.

"Should it have mattered?"

"No," Hanlon muttered, his eyes fixed very firmly on the floor. "What we really wanted to say, Captain, is that we're sorry. We were acting like total assholes…"

"Yes, you were, but I'm not the one you need to be apologising to. That particular individual is currently in ICU at St Clare's." He paused, then tore a sheet of paper off the notepad on his desk and began to write quickly on it. He'd nearly filled the page before he handed it to Hanlon, along with two fifty dollar bills from his own wallet. "But it'll be a good start if you're serious about this. Now, those are some of his favourite books that I know of. If you men are serious about wanting to buy something for him, then I suggest you buy him some books. All of his were destroyed."

Hanlon nodded as he took both the note and the money from Deakins.

"That… That's a good idea. Thanks, sir."

"And yes, Hanlon, you've all got my permission to go now."

Hanlon nodded again, and took a step back towards the door. "Thankyou, Captain."

Deakins sighed softly as he watched Hanlon quickly cross the floor to where the other detectives were gathered, waiting for him. He watched as Hanlon spoke rapidly to them, waving the page in the air with the book titles that Deakins had hastily scribbled down. He watched as they responded with what appeared to be enthusiastic nods before going to grab their respective coats and hurrying from the offices.

Picking up his phone, Deakins hit speed dial for the Chief of Detectives' office.

"Yes, this is Captain James Deakins, from Major Case," he said to the assistant who answered the phone. "I'd like to speak to Chief Richards, please."

There was a long moment, and then he spoke again.

"Yes, sir, it's Deakins. I just wanted to inform you, Major Case is shutting up shop for the day. I've given my detectives permission to go early so they can visit Bobby Goren in hospital… Yes, sir, I know we have a back-log of cases, but they're just going to have to wait. …Thankyou for your understanding, sir. …No, I don't know anything more as yet. You'd need to speak to Don Cragen at SVU for any information on the case. …Yes, sir, I'll be heading to the hospital myself shortly. Thankyou, I'll be sure to tell him."

Hanging up the phone, Deakins grabbed his coat and hurried from the office before anything else happened to hold him up.

* * *

tbc... 


	11. Early Morning Revelations

_A/N_: Damn my muse. I was hoping to have gotten some moreof _Remembrance_ written this weekend, but it seems she can only cope with two major projects at once, and since she graciously decided to let me work on my NaNo project this weekend, I don't dare complain. On the bright (cough) side, here is more of my prime angst project...

* * *

"What do you want?" Richie Goren asked sullenly as he was led into the interview room at the prison to find Elliot and Olivia waiting for him, along with his lawyer and ADA Casey Novak.

Elliot paused, eyeing Richie's swollen left eye with curiosity.

"Get into a fight, Richie?"

The sullen look descended into an angry scowl, and was followed rapidly by a wince of pain.

"Let's just say that it didn't take long for the other scum in here to work out that I'm Bobby's brother. He's not exactly the most popular guy around here, you know?"

Elliot sat down, fighting down an urge to smirk. He didn't feel the slightest bit guilty at the thought that Richie had suffered a beating.

"My client has had to be placed in the protective wing, in isolation," Adams stated angrily.

"Well, I guess he should be grateful he's not in the same position as his brother," Olivia shot back. "Don't look to us for sympathy. We reserve that for victims."

"We have some more questions for you, Richie," Elliot said before Adams had a chance to reply to Olivia's barb. "We want to know if you recognise either of these two men."

He dropped two photos on the table, mugshots of Matic and Cozza. Richie glanced quickly at them, a little too quickly for Olivia or Elliot's liking, and shook his head.

"Nope. Don't know them."

"Really," Elliot said calmly. "We find that kind of strange, considering you spent around three and a half years sharing a cell with this guy here." He prodded at the photo of Matic for emphasis. "And this other guy joined the two of you for six months. Then, all three of you were released at pretty much the same time. In fact, there was only a four day gap between each of your releases."

"So, would you like to rethink your answer, Richie?" Olivia asked. "Do you recognise either of these men?"

Richie looked away, scowling as deeply as his black eye would allow.

"Simon and Chops."

"They're the buddies that took care of you in prison, weren't they?" Elliot asked. "Kept the other inmates from beating you up?"

"They looked out for me," Richie muttered. "So what? Is it a crime now to have friends?"

"No," Elliot said blithely. Olivia leaned in, then.

"But it is to ask for a quarter of a million dollars for protection."

Richie blanched visibly, and Olivia stared hard at him.

"What happened, Richie? Did they track you down after you all got out? Or was it something you planned together in prison?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Richie exploded. "Will you just fucking leave me alone?"

"Listen to us, Richie," Olivia snapped, abruptly abandoning the veneer of the sympathetic cop. "At the moment you're the only one we have. We know these other two were involved, but at the moment we have nothing to nail them on, so if we can't get them, we'll just have to settle for laying everything on you."

"You can't do that," Richie whispered, his eyes wide with panic. "I didn't do anything to Bobby, you gotta believe me!"

"We can do it, Richie, unless you give us some alternatives," Elliot told him in a more soothing tone. "Why don't you do yourself a favour, and tell us what really went on? You give up Matic and Cozza, and the DA might be willing to cut you a deal. Minimum time in low security prison…"

Casey spoke up then, her attention focused on Richie's lawyer.

"Would you like some time to talk sense into your client, Ms Adams? We already have enough in the statement from Detective Goren to convince a judge to commit Richie to trial. Now I'll wager that sooner or later, Detective Goren is going to remember everything that happened to him, and when he does, I don't doubt he'll be willing to testify to all of it. If that happens, if he gives up Matic and Cozza before your client does, any possible deals are going to be out the window. Think about it, and remember that he's facing a possible charge of attempted murder of a police officer. That's a straight life sentence, no parole, just for starters. And with all the other charges he's likely to face, I wouldn't be surprised if the DA instructs me to request the death penalty."

"Whoa!" Richie burst out. "Death penalty? No way…"

"Then tell us what happened!" Elliot exploded at him, slamming his fists down on the table for emphasis. Richie jerked backwards, his pale brown eyes flickering between Elliot and Olivia as he tried desperately to gauge just how serious they really were. Finally, he shuddered visibly, and gave in.

"You've gotta understand… It was horrible. In prison, I mean… Once it got around that I was Bobby Goren's older brother, it was open season, you know? And the guards never tried to stop it. In the end, I got beaten up so bad that I landed in the prison hospital for a month. After that, they put me in solitary… Said it was for my own protection. I think I was there… in solitary, I mean… for a couple of months when they took me out. They put me in a cell with a new guy."

"Simon Matic," Elliot said, and Richie nodded.

"Yeah. He told me that Bobby had screwed him over, got him sent to prison, and I thought that was it. I wasn't gonna live to see the next morning. But Simon never hurt me. He said that he didn't blame me, that it wasn't my fault I had a piece of shit for a little brother. Then he said that he'd look out for me, and he wouldn't let anyone hurt me. He protected me, you know? After Simon came, no one hassled me. The only guy who tried ended up in hospital himself."

"So Matic looked out for you out of the goodness of his heart," Elliot concluded sarcastically. "And he didn't even hint that he wanted anything in return?"

"He… He said he might need a favour when we got out… but he said it wouldn't be anything major. I didn't care at that stage, okay? All I wanted was to be able to get through each day, and not have to worry about whether I was going to end up crippled… or even dead. I just didn't care what he wanted in return. I figured I'd deal with that when I got out."

"Okay," Olivia said, frowning slightly. "Now what about Richard Cozza? How did he join your happy little family?"

Richie stared intently at the tabletop.

"When he got to Rikers, it didn't take him long to find out who I was. He came after me, and Simon fought him off. I don't know what happened, just that Simon talked to Chops, and then he was okay with me. He ended up helping Simon take care of me."

"Take care of you?" Elliot echoed, raising an eyebrow questioningly, and Richie flushed.

"Not like that. They never laid a hand… or anything else on me."

"But I bet that happened a lot before Simon came along, huh?" Olivia said, sounding none too sympathetic. Richie glanced at her, then back down again.

"Every fucking day."

"So Matic and Cozza act like your own personal bodyguards until you get released. Then they get out shortly after… and what happened then?" Elliot asked.

"They came looking for me," Richie answered sullenly. "I wasn't expecting to see them, you know? Simon was supposed to be serving minimum of ten years… and Chops wasn't ever supposed to get out. But Simon told me his lawyer got him a reduced sentence on appeal, and got him before the parole board early. And Chops made a deal with the Feds. He agreed to testify in some of their big cases against one of the big crime families here, and they got him out of prison in exchange for his testimony. I guess they figured the people he killed weren't as important as their cases. Anyway, they said they needed money, and they wanted me to get it for them."

"How much money did they ask for?" Olivia asked.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand. I told them I didn't have that kind of money, and that's when Chops…"

"When Chops what?" Elliot pressed. Richie shuddered.

"He said 'I bet your little brother does'. I… I told them Bobby wouldn't have that kind of money, but they wouldn't believe me. That's when Simon said that if I couldn't get the money, then maybe I could pay them another way."

Richie fell silent, wringing his hands together incessantly. Neither Elliot nor Olivia spoke, both watching Richie piercingly.

"Chops said that if I couldn't come up with the money, then I could help them get a little bit of payback with Bobby. I… I didn't want to… but I was scared of them. I didn't know if they might do anything to me, but I wasn't game enough to find out. And besides… they said that all they wanted to do was give him a scare. Chops said they wouldn't really hurt him, just rough him up a little. He said they weren't stupid enough to try and do some serious damage."

"So you agreed," Elliot said flatly.

"Kind of," Richie muttered. "Except, I made them promise to wait. I said I'd try and get the money first, and that if Bobby came through with the money, then they'd leave him alone."

"Except, he knocked you back, wouldn't give you the money," Olivia said.

"Stupid jerk," Richie said miserably. "It's partly his own fault. If he'd just given me the money…"

"So what happened when you left your brother's apartment on Saturday night?" Olivia asked.

"When I got outside, Simon and Chops were waiting for me. They asked if I'd gotten him to give me the money, and I had to say no. I should've known then. The looks on their faces… They were happy that I didn't get the money. They told me to get lost, then, and… and I did."

"All right," Adams stated crisply. "I think my client has been more than reasonable with his level of cooperation. What is he going to be offered in return?"

"Not so fast, Ms Adams," Casey said coolly. "There are still a few cloudy issues here, like the chlorphenesin that Mr Goren here drugged his brother with."

"Chops got that stuff," Richie explained. "He told me to slip it into whatever Bobby was drinking if it looked like I wasn't going to get the money. I didn't even know what it was. Chops just said it'd guarantee Bobby couldn't fight back too much."

"Too much?" Olivia echoed incredulously. "It left him completely paralysed! He couldn't fight back at all!"

"And this nice, neat little story doesn't explain the fact that when we picked you up at the hotel, you were surprised to hear that your brother wasn't dead," Elliot added harshly. Richie looked up, then, staring at Elliot with a blank look.

"I don't remember that. I was pretty shit-faced when you arrested me. I don't remember it at all."

"Hearsay, Detective Stabler," Adams said, sounding smug. Elliot shrugged.

"Fine. Okay, Richie, just one last thing. Do you know where Simon Matic or Richard Cozza are?"

"Not a clue," Richie answered. "I didn't see them again after Saturday night. If they're smart, they'll have gotten out of New York, not hang around like I did."

Adams looked to Casey.

"Now, about that deal…?"

* * *

"Do you believe him?" Olivia asked as they left the prison after seeing Casey off. Elliot shrugged.

"I suppose it could be what happened… and so far, everything Richie's told us has matched what we've been told by Goren. I'm sceptical, though. It's too neat, and he gave up Matic and Cozza too quickly." He paused, then added wryly, "Or, he's just totally piss-weak, like we thought all along."

"It'll be interesting to see what the other two assholes have to say when we nab them," Olivia mused.

"More specifically, what they'll say when they find out just how fast Richie gave them up," Elliot added. "C'mon, Liv. Let's get to the hospital, see if Goren has anything more to tell us."

* * *

Alex walked back in to Bobby's room just before seven-thirty that morning to find not Logan, but an unfamiliar man sitting in the chair by her partner's bedside. Her first thought was one of anger – _damn Logan, that lying son of a bitch_ – as she stared at the stranger. Then, his head came up, they locked stares for a moment, and he offered her a lop-sided grin that was oh-so-familiar.

"You've gotta be Alex," the man said quietly, getting slowly to his feet. He stuck his hand out to her. "I'm Danny Cooper. I'm Bobby's cousin."

She allowed her hand to be shook, still feeling vaguely unsettled.

"When did you get here?"

"Last night… Just before midnight, I think. I flew out from DC on the first flight I could get after the hospital contacted me."

She was silent for a moment, looking at Bobby's sleeping form before venturing a question.

"Was there anyone in here when you arrived…?"

"There was another detective here," Danny confirmed. "Logan, I think he said his name was. He was talking to Bobby when I got here. Got all suspicious and protective, until Bobby recognised my voice. He was kind of reluctant to leave, actually… like he wasn't sure if I should be trusted."

Alex sighed inwardly, her anger fading some. At least Logan hadn't left Bobby alone. She stepped past Danny, and over to the bedside.

"Did he manage to sleep okay?"

"He woke up a few times… pretty nasty nightmares, you know. Uh, listen… I haven't talked to anyone yet… His eyes…?"

Alex regarded Danny for a long moment before returning her gaze to Bobby.

"His eyes were burned. We don't know yet whether the damage is permanent."

"Hell… Bastards really did a number on him, didn't they?"

Alex didn't answer, consumed as she was with the awful memory of walking into Bobby's bedroom to see him lying on his bed, beaten… raped…

"Yes," she said finally, blinking back tears. "They did."

"You're his partner, right?" Danny asked finally, sensing the need to shift the subject.

Alex nodded warily, not quite knowing where he was going with that line of questioning.

"Okay," Danny murmured. "It's just that he didn't seem to want to tell this to anyone else except you. Does the name Simon Matic mean anything to you?"

Alex went very still where she stood, her face going grey. It seemed Stabler and Benson had been right after all. God, how she'd wished they weren't.

"He told you that it was Matic who attacked him?" she asked finally, her voice flat and cold. Danny looked at her for a long moment, chewing lightly on his lower lip before responding.

"Well… He seemed pretty sure that this Matic was one of the two guys that attacked him. He said he remembered one of them whispered into his ear. Apparently he said 'I got you'… whatever that means. But yeah… Bobby was fairly certain it was this Matic guy."

Alex's eyes closed. The significance of that statement was not lost on her, and for a split second she recalled an image of Bobby in the interrogation room, leaning in towards Matic, pushing his face right in close in that way he had… and saying those words that had invoked so much rage in their suspect.

'_You raped her body, you… raped her mind, you turned her head inside out, but she got you. She… got… you_…_'_

"Oh god…" Alex gasped in shock as she came back to reality with a jolt. "That son of a bitch…"

"Hey, you want to sit down?" Danny asked worriedly, watching as Alex swayed slightly. She shook her head wordlessly, and instead walked around and poured some water into an empty cup and downed it in one hit. Danny watched her wordlessly for a long moment, then spoke carefully.

"Bobby said his brother Richie set him up. Is that true?"

Alex looked up at Danny slowly. Even in her stricken state, she didn't miss the cold, hard anger in his voice.

"Please tell me the truth," Danny pleaded with her. "I know you don't know me at all, but I promise you, I'm here for Bobby. But I need to know the truth. Did Richie have anything to do with this?"

"It's looking that way," Alex said finally, with extreme reluctance. Danny sighed.

"Goddamn it..."

Anything Alex had been of a mind to say was lost when a soft moan from the bed drew both her and Danny's attention.

"Bobby?" Alex asked quickly, leaning over the bed a little. "Are you awake?"

There was no answer for a moment. Then, his voice answered her, soft and yet not sounding quite as fragile as it had the past twenty-four hours.

"Yeah… I guess so. Danny…?"

"I'm right here," Danny answered quickly. "I was just having a nice talk with your pretty partner, bud, when you had to go spoiling it by waking up."

"Keep your grubby hands off her," Bobby muttered. "You're married."

Danny chuckled softly, and was gratified to see a ghost of a smile pass fleetingly over Alex's lips.

"Anything you want, Bobby?"

Bobby was silent as he considered that. Finally, he answered tentatively.

"It'd be nice to… to be able to sit up… a little. Getting sick of lying down."

It didn't surprise Alex. Bobby had never been one to be static for any prolonged length of time. Most of the time he was just one step away from insomnia, his mind always moving in high gear. His body tended to follow the example set by his mind, and he could never stay still for very long. Being able to do nothing but lie in bed and sleep had to be driving him insane.

"I'll go find a nurse, or someone who can help," Danny offered. "I'll be back in a minute."

Alex watched him go, then looked back to Bobby.

"So that's your cousin."

"Yeah. What… what do you think?"

"He seems okay."

She didn't offer any further comment. In truth, she had nothing to say on the subject of his cousin. She knew nothing about him, and felt out of place making any sort of observation.

"He's a… a good guy. He looked out for me when… when I was a kid… after my father left us."

Alex bit down on the inside of her cheek. She desperately wanted to ask why he'd never mentioned this cousin of his to her, but at the same time the last thing she wanted to do was upset him.

"You… You want to know why I never told you about him."

"What are you, a mind reader?" she grumbled as she sat down beside the bed.

"I never told you about Danny… because then I would have had to tell you what happened that led to me being put with his parents for six months… and I didn't want to have to face that again. I… I couldn't face it again."

Alex laid her hand gently on his arm.

"Bobby, it's okay. I understand. But maybe we could talk about it some time, when you're ready."

A sigh escaped his lips.

"I'm sorry, Alex."

"Don't apologise. I told you, I understand."

"I'm lucky," Bobby murmured. Alex looked at him, puzzled.

"How do you mean?"

"Lucky… to have you. Others knew…"

Alex stared at him, feeling thoroughly confused by then. "Bobby, what do you mean? What others? Who knew what?"

Bobby shuddered slightly.

"My neighbours… They must have heard… But they didn't do anything. They just… just ignored it."

Alex gently traced an invisible line over his forehead with her thumb.

"Don't be angry, Bobby. None of them knew."

"I'm not angry," he whispered. "But…"

"But what?""

"If you'd thought anything was wrong, you would have come straight away."

He was right, she thought ruefully. If she'd had even the smallest inkling that anything was wrong, she would have been over there in an instant. She probably would have walked straight into the middle of whatever nightmare Bobby had endured, but she would have gone. She could understand, she supposed, his frustration and hurt at the knowledge that his neighbours had made no effort to do anything to help, despite apparently clear indications that he was in trouble.

She had no opportunity to reflect further on that. Danny arrived back with Dr Craig and one of the male nurses.

"Detective Goren, how are you feeling?" Dr Craig asked, nodding silent thanks to Alex as she reluctantly moved out of the way.

"Tired of lying down," he mumbled. She smiled sympathetically.

"I imagine you would be. Okay, I think we can get you sitting up a little, if that's what you feel like. Benji, help me here…?"

Between the two of them, they raised the bed carefully to allow Bobby to rest in a half-sitting position. Then, when the nurse had been excused to return to his duties, Dr Craig returned her attention to her patient.

"How is the pain? Tolerable?"

Bobby was silent for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Yeah."

"Good," Dr Craig murmured. "Now just bear with me while I check your blood pressure."

Alex and Danny watched in silence from the end of the bed while Dr Craig went through the motions of checking Bobby's blood pressure.

"A little high," Dr Craig murmured as she unstrapped the pressure band from his arm. "Not too bad, though, considering."

"No heart attack yet, then?" Bobby asked softly, and Dr Craig smiled in appreciation of his attempt at humour.

"Not quite yet. All things considering, you're not doing too badly at all, and that's taking into account that you've only been here in hospital for around thirty-six hours. Now, I want to leave you hooked up to the IV for a couple of days yet, but if you think you could stomach a little bit of solid food, then that would be a good thing."

"Maybe… maybe some soup."

Dr Craig nodded in acquiescence. Soup wasn't exactly what she considered solid food, but it was a start.

"I'll let the staff know. They'll get that organised straight away. Any particular soup?"

"Minestrone," Alex and Danny both said at the same instant, before Bobby had a chance to reply. Dr Craig regarded them curiously, and then looked back at Bobby. There was a small, sheepish smile on his face. She laughed softly.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do."

"I guess some things just don't ever change," Danny said with a laugh as he and Alex returned to the bedside after Dr Craig had gone. To Alex, he said, "He never would have anything except Minestrone when he was living with us. The rest of us got sick to death of it, but Bobby could never get enough of it."

Alex smiled.

"He'll have other soups, now, but I've seen him work himself into a royally foul mood if we go to a diner or a restaurant, and they don't offer Minestrone on the menu."

"Hey," Bobby spoke up, his voice sounding a little hoarse as he raised the volume slightly to get their attention. "Newsflash, I'm right here. If you want to talk about me behind my back, at least have the decency to leave the room."

Alex's smile widened a little. She leaned over to kiss him gently on the forehead and was gratified to notice that, this time, he didn't flinch away from her.

"We're sorry. You're just such an interesting topic of conversation."

Bobby sighed comically.

"That's me, the conversation ice-breaker."

Danny stood back, watching his cousin and the beautiful, petite woman who was his partner with a growing sense of appreciation. He'd always had a close relationship with Bobby, and he knew Bobby looked to him as the big brother that Richie had never been to him. But the dynamics of his relationship with the woman at his side were not quite yet within his grasp to understand. There was, however, one thing he did think he understood, and that was the fact that he needed to give them some time together, away from prying eyes and ears.

"Listen, I'm gonna go find the cafeteria, and get something to eat and drink, okay? I'll be back in half an hour or so."

"If you want coffee," Alex advised him, "then you'd be better off going across the road to Starbucks. The food here is okay, but the coffee is lousy."

Danny grinned.

"Duly noted. Be back in a while."

Alex watched him go, then looked back to Bobby.

"He does seem like a good guy."

Bobby sighed softly.

"He is. Alex…"

She felt a tiny smile edge its way onto her face before she could stop it. She doubted he was even aware of it, but he was no longer calling her 'Eames', but rather 'Alex'. She liked it, hearing her first name from his lips. Oh, she appreciated his professionalism at work – calling her 'Eames' let everyone who heard know that he saw her as an equal, and not just a female with a badge. But she'd often thought that, off-duty, he should have been able to call her 'Alex'. Up until now, that hadn't been the case, but now… Well, now was a different situation entirely.

"Mm, what is it?" she asked.

"Could you get some things for me… from my apartment?"

The smile that had crept onto her face dropped, right along with her stomach. She hoped to God that he wasn't about to ask what she thought he was.

"What did you want me to get?"

"Just a few books. I… I mean… If you could… could read to… to me…"

His stammering was steadily getting worse, she noted in quiet dismay, and God only knew what state he would be in after she'd told him the truth about his beloved books.

"What's wrong?"

His voice startled her back to reality, and a stressed whimper escaped her lips before she could stop it.

"Alex, what's wrong?" he asked again, and this time she could hear a genuine spark of fear in his voice. She had to tell him, hard as it was. It was pointless to hide the truth from him, because the longer she waited the harder it was going to be for him to deal with.

"Bobby," she said softly, "there's something I have to tell you. It… It's about your books."

He'd suddenly gone very quiet, and his entire body had gone tense in the bed. She felt the tears fresh in her eyes, but forced them back almost brutally. She went on slowly, silently marvelling that she was able to keep her voice steady. There was no easy way to say it, and so she simply said it.

"Bobby, they burned them. The men that attacked you… they burned your books."

Her words were met with absolute silence. She watched him worriedly a long moment before speaking again.

"Bobby, are you…?"

"All of them?" he asked suddenly. She swallowed hard.

"All of them," she confirmed.

He fell silent, not responding to her at all. Alex watched him worriedly, desperately wishing he would react in some way, even if it was to start screaming hysterically. His absolute silence and stillness frightened her more than any tantrum would have done.

"Bobby, say something please," she pleaded with him softly.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Some of those books… Mom gave them to me. I can't ever replace them. So what, exactly, do you want me to say?"

A hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

"I'm sorry," Alex whispered, feeling woefully inadequate all of a sudden. She wished she had something more, something better to say, but nothing else was forthcoming.

Bobby shuddered visibly.

"What… What else?"

She didn't need to ask what he meant. She already knew, and she would have been an idiot to think that he wouldn't work out that if they'd had the balls to destroy his books, then they would have trashed anything else they could get their hands on as well.

"It… They trashed everything pretty thoroughly, by the looks of it."

Bobby's head turned towards her slightly.

"You've seen my apartment?"

"Bobby, I think I got there only a few minutes after Benson and Stabler did. Cragen called Deakins as soon as he got the notification, and Deakins called me straight after that. I couldn't get around there fast enough."

"You… You saw me."

"Yes, I did," she confirmed. "And I came to the hospital with you in the ambulance. The only times I haven't been right here with you were when you in surgery, when Benson and Stabler talked to you yesterday, and when Logan agreed to stay last night on the condition that I went home and got some sleep."

He was silent for a moment while he digested that knowledge. Finally, when he spoke again it was in a soft voice that exuded a vulnerability she hadn't seen in him since that moment so long ago when he'd finally realised just how viciously he had been manipulated by that bitch Nicole Wallace.

"E… Everything's gone…?"

She couldn't bring herself to answer that, but her silence spoke louder than any words. A choked sob suddenly escaped Bobby's lips.

"Alex…"

"I'm here," she whispered, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks once more. She leaned over, gently drawing his head to her shoulder and hugging him as best as she was able. He clung to her clumsily, any efforts at returning the embrace hindered by his broken hands.

"Help me," he whispered into her shoulder, shuddering sobs rippling through his body, one after another. "Please… Help me…"

She hugged him back, wanting to help and not knowing how. In the end, all she could do was hold him, and continue to offer silent comfort. In the end, there was nothing else she could do.

* * *

_tbc..._


	12. Fragmentation

A/N: **WARNING**: Descriptions of violence and rape in this chapter. If you're not comfortable with that, or if you're not old enough, DON'T READ THIS! You have been warned.

A small part of this chapter has been updated to correct a discrepancy – specifically, Nolan and Boyd not knowing SVU were investigating the assault, even though they knew SVU had organized the vigil. I hate discrepancies.

* * *

Danny returned a little over half an hour later to a touching sight. Alex had moved from the chair to sit up beside Bobby on the bed. Her arms were wrapped around him and he was cuddled in against her, with his bandaged head resting against her shoulder. She was murmuring softly to him, while one hand gently stroked his cheek soothingly.

"Is he asleep?" Danny asked softly, walking carefully into the room. Alex looked back at him, and nodded.

"Yes. He literally cried himself to sleep."

He stood there, watching the two of them for a long moment before venturing a question.

"What happened?"

"He found out about his books."

Danny stared at her, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"All of his books were destroyed," she explained. "The men that did this to him… They burned every single one of his books. All he's got left are the books that he has at One Police Plaza."

"Aw, crap," Danny muttered. "Those books meant everything to him. I suppose everything else in his apartment was pretty much trashed?"

Alex nodded in confirmation.

"Not much was left. They made sure of that."

Danny looked to Bobby thoughtfully.

"He really trusts you, doesn't he?"

Alex looked at him guardedly.

"Yes, he does. We have to trust each other completely… Our lives are in each other's hands every day."

"I know," Danny murmured. "It's just… Well, you probably know that Bobby has never found it easy to trust anyone. It's kind of strange to see him so… I don't know… _comfortable_ with you. Actually, strange isn't the right word. It's… nice. You really care about him, don't you?"

Even as he watched, Alex visibly relaxed, and returned her attention to her partner.

"Yes," she answered softly. "We care about each other. Bobby doesn't have a lot of friends… Not really close friends. In a way, we're each other's best friend."

Danny walked around and sat down in a chair on the other side of the bed.

"I don't doubt he got upset about his books. That was harsh, burning them."

"It was about as personal as it gets," Alex said bitterly. "They had to know how much his books mean to him. Burning them like that… It was the ultimate slap in the face. Even more than…"

She trailed off abruptly. Danny hesitated, then spoke tentatively.

"Even more than raping him? Is that what you were about to say?"

Alex stared at him for several long seconds, then turned her attention back to Bobby.

"They set out to hurt him as much as they could, in every way that they could. And they succeeded."

Danny looked on thoughtfully, taking in the curious sight of his big bear of a cousin being cradled in the arms of someone who was nearly half his size.

"Can I ask you something without getting decked?" he asked. Alex immediately shot him a lethal glare, but Danny chose to ignore it. "Tell me… Do you love Bobby?"

The question gave Alex pause. She considered it for a moment before answering softly.

"Romantically? No. As a friend? Yes, more than anything."

Danny nodded appreciatively.

"He's lucky to have you."

Alex shut her eyes, and hugged Bobby to her as tightly as she dared.

"That sentiment goes both ways."

He smiled faintly. "I dare say it does."

"Ah… 'Scuse us…"

Both Alex and Danny looked around at the voice from the doorway, and though Danny didn't recognise either of the two men who stood there, Alex clearly did. Even as Danny looked on, the new-found calm in her expression was washed away, to be replaced with dark anger.

"Danny," she said coolly, "this is Detectives Nolan and Boyd, two of our… _colleagues_ from Major Case. What do you two want?"

Boyd and Nolan exchanged glances, and then Boyd walked in slowly.

"We… We came to see Goren. And… to apologise to him… you know, for being insensitive assholes."

It could have been a trick of the light, but Danny was sure that Alex's expression softened just a fraction.

"You're genuine about that?"

Nolan followed Boyd in.

"Yeah. Look, Eames, we really are sorry. We should have come long before this. I don't know why we were being such jerks."

Boyd grunted. "Mob mentality. Someone else sets the standard, and you just stop thinking for yourself." He came to a halt at the bedside. "How's he doing?"

Alex looked down at her partner, sleeping soundly cradled in her embrace.

"In all truth? Not so great."

"I guess he wouldn't be," Boyd conceded. "Man… We didn't realise it was this bad. Even from what Deakins told us, I never imagined _this_."

"What about his eyes? What's the damage there?" Nolan asked.

"Burned," Alex confirmed. "They won't know for a while how bad… or how permanent it is."

"And his hands?" Nolan wondered, looking at the detective's thickly bandaged hands.

"Both broken," Alex replied. "His left hand… The doctor said every bone in his left hand was broken. They don't know if it will ever heal completely."

"Do they have any idea at all who did this to him?" Boyd asked, his voice tight with anger. Alex hesitated, then answered tentatively.

"They have a couple of leads," Alex answered carefully. "I don't know much more than that."

"Who's investigating it?" Nolan wondered.

"Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson have the case," she answered softly.

"Stabler?" Nolan retorted. "Damn, he _hates_ Major Case. He probably laughed his head off when he was handed this one."

"I heard that."

They all looked around just as Benson and Stabler walked in. Elliot favoured Boyd and Nolan with a cool look, then looked past them to Alex.

"Hey, Alex, how are you doing? Did you manage to get some rest?"

She nodded, but didn't elaborate for them.

"Have you learnt anything more?"

Olivia nodded. "Yes, but we need to talk to Bobby again, to see if he can corroborate any of it. How's he doing?"

"Pretty distraught, actually," Alex admitted softly. "I had to tell him about his books. It… It was just a bit more than he could cope with."

"His books?" Nolan asked, frowning. "What about his books?"

Elliot glanced back at him.

"The bastards that attacked him burned all of his books, and pretty much trashed everything in his apartment. There's nothing left."

"Crap," Nolan muttered. "They really tried to take him apart, didn't they?"

At that moment, Bobby stirred and, with a soft moan, drew back a little from Alex as he woke up.

"Sorry," Alex murmured. "Didn't mean to wake you."

"S'okay," he mumbled. "Danny…?"

Danny stood up and walked over to the bedside, reaching out to lay a hand gently on his cousin's shoulder.

"I'm right here, bud. How're you feeling?"

Bobby considered that question for a long moment before answering.

"You want an honest answer… or should I lie through my teeth?"

Danny sighed.

"That good, huh?"

"Hey, you've got visitors," Alex told him as she slid carefully off the bed and allowed him to adjust slightly into a more comfortable position. "Elliot and Olivia are here, and so are Nolan and Boyd."

Bobby's head tilted just fractionally to the side.

"Nolan and Boyd?"

"Yeah," Boyd spoke up. "We came to see how you're doing, Bobby, and to see if there's anything you want that we can get for you."

Bobby answered that offer with silence, not quite sure what to make of it.

Despite Alex and Captain Deakins' efforts at discretion, it hadn't taken Bobby much effort to understand why none of his fellow Major Case detectives had come to the hospital to see him. Though he hadn't been especially surprised, it had still hurt. It had hurt a lot. Now, after personally experiencing the obvious contempt and disregard that the rest of the Major Case team clearly had for him, he simply didn't know what to make of this apparent change of heart.

"Listen, Bobby," Nolan said quietly, "we're sorry. We were being assholes, and we had no right. We should've been here for you right from the start… All of us should've been. There's no excuse, but if there's anything we can do now, just say. Anything at all, okay?"

Bobby relaxed a little in the bed. He was too sick, too tired and simply too disheartened to try and analyse their motives. Right at that point, he had no strength of will to do anything but simply take them at their word.

"Elliot?" he asked, frustrated at the effort that he had to make to keep his voice from breaking.

"Yeah?" Elliot replied.

"You and Olivia need to ask more questions, don't you?"

"Yeah," Elliot confirmed. "We do, Bobby. You up to it?"

_No_, Bobby thought dismally. _Not really_…

"I'll try," he conceded aloud.

"That's all we're asking," Olivia assured him. Elliot looked around at the other occupants, a determined look on his face.

"Okay, we need everyone out, now. Alex, you can stay if you want."

Alex looked across at Bobby, and at the conflicting emotions on his bruised face. He wanted her to stay, and yet at the same time he didn't.

"I'll wait right outside," she told him, opting for a compromise. "Danny and I will both be right outside. We'll be back in like a shot if you need us."

Bobby nodded wordlessly. As much as he wanted them both to stay, there were things he was going to have to speak about that he didn't want either to have to listen to. He felt Alex's lips brush lightly over his forehead, and had to make a conscious effort not to flinch away from her. He'd done that when she kissed him on the cheek yesterday, and he'd sensed her hurt at the perceived rejection as clearly as if he could see it with his own eyes. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her, and so he'd forced himself not to cringe away from those small showings of affection.

It wasn't easy. With the exception of when he'd cried himself to sleep in her arms, any physical contact left him feeling sick to his stomach, and the most innocent touches were bringing memories to the fore that he would rather bury as deep within his mind as he could.

He listened without replying as first Nolan and Boyd, and then Alex and Danny filed out of the room. He heard the murmur of their voices briefly in the hallway, and then the door closed, shutting those voice out.

"I know who one of the men was that… that attacked me," Bobby said before either Elliot or Olivia had the chance to speak. Both detectives shared a hopeful look. If he was able to identify either Matic or Cozza, they'd be one step closer to putting the proverbial nail in Richie's coffin. After a lengthy discussion, they'd agreed that they didn't believe Richard Goren's version of events, and the more that Bobby remembered of his ordeal, the more proof they hoped to find that would allow them to scuttle the deal that had been tentatively decided upon for Richie in the event of his testifying against Simon Matic and Richard Cozza.

"Tell us who attacked you, Bobby," Olivia encouraged him.

"Matic…" he answered softly. "Simon Matic. I… Alex and I… We nailed him around three years ago… Kidnap and rape."

"Did you actually see him?" Elliot asked, trying to keep his tone gentle so as not to come across as being too aggressive. They needed something definitive from him, something that be relief upon in court as a positive identification, or a defence lawyer would trample the accusation before it ever got to court.

"No."

"Then how do you know it was him?"

Bobby drew in an unsteady breath. He understood what Elliot was trying to do, but that didn't make it any easier for him.

"Were you going to… record this?"

"Yeah," Elliot answered. "Hang on… Okay, whenever you're ready."

"Do… Do you want me to start from where I… I left off last time?"

"That'd be good," Olivia said. "Just take your time, Bobby."

Bobby drew in a long breath in a futile effort to steady his nerves, and wishing that he could somehow rid himself of the sense of helplessness and hopelessness that he was damn near drowning in. Out of everything he'd ever experienced in his life, this was the first time he genuinely felt like a victim. It was a truly sickening feeling.

"The last thing you told us," Olivia reminded him gently, "was that you were pulled out of your chair, to the floor, and you were hit with what felt like a piece of metal."

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled. "They didn't say anything… Just kept hitting me. They didn't hit me on the head, though. They… They were careful about that. I think, maybe, they didn't want me to pass out. When they stopped, I thought that was it over… I thought they'd take whatever they wanted and… and go… But they didn't. They dragged me into my bedroom and… and between them they lifted me onto my bed. I… I was scared… I didn't know what was going on. Where they dumped me on my bed… I could see the alarm clock. It was around eleven-thirty by then. They went out… I could hear a lot of noise, like they were throwing stuff around. There was so much noise… I thought for sure that one of my neighbours would get angry and call the police… I prayed they would… But they didn't. I remember it was just before midnight when they came back in. The drugs… the chlorphenesin… was wearing off, and I could move again. Not enough to be able to… to help myself, though. They started taking my… my clothes off. They used a knife to cut my clothes away. I remember crying out… One of them cut me with their knife, on the leg. That was when they gagged me. They stripped me totally, and then one of them wrapped chains around ankles… chained me to the bed. One of them said something to me… They whispered it, I couldn't place the voice…"

"What did they say?" Elliot asked quietly when Bobby faltered.

"He c… called me their… their slave… Said I had to… to be punished. They took my hand… my right hand, and put it on some sort of wooden block. One of them held my arm, and then the other broke my hand with a hammer. I… I think they hit it four or five times before… before they started on my left hand. When they were finished… I couldn't do anything. My hands were like… like pulp… They pulled my arms over my head then, and they handcuffed me to the bed head."

"Easy," Olivia murmured, taking the opportunity to interrupt him as his breath started to become raspy, and his voice became hoarse and weak. She picked up a glass of water from the mobile table, and held it gently to his lips for him to sip from. "It's okay," she murmured to him. "You're safe, Bobby. It's okay."

"It won't be okay," Bobby whispered, feeling the panic clutching painfully inside his chest, and his throat. "Not until they're caught… And I don't know who the second man was."

"We'll get him, Bobby," Elliot told him firmly. "Whoever he is, we'll nail him. Just don't lose it on us, okay? You've gotta keep it together. Tell us what happened next."

Bobby drew in a ragged breath, then went on in an unsteady voice.

"I… I heard one of them undressing. I'd figured what they were planning to do when they stripped me, but it didn't hit home until one of them climbed up onto the bed and was kneeling o… over the top of me."

Again, Bobby hesitated, but this time neither Olivia nor Elliot interrupted. Bobby's admission that the rape happened was not vital for their case. The rape kit done when Bobby came out of surgery had already proven beyond doubt that he had been raped. It was vital, however, that he face the fact of the rape in his own mind.

He spoke, his voice shaking almost uncontrollably.

"I tried to get him off me... I tried to buck him off, but they just laughed. Thought it was funny. One of them p... punched me in the back of the head and stunned me. He... he raped me then. I tried to stop him… to… to keep him out… But I couldn't… and he raped me. He was all… all over me… I couldn't fight him. I tried, but I couldn't fight him…"

Olivia reached for him as he dissolved in tears, but stopped short of actually touching him.

"You tried," she murmured. "You tried to fight them, Bobby. But you'd already been drugged. You did everything you could, but they made sure they had the advantage right from the start."

Bobby shuddered as he fought to regain control over his shattered composure.

When he was… finished… He leaned in close and whispered to me… Whispered into my ear… _I got you_. That's when I knew it was Matic."

Elliot and Olivia glanced at each other. As much as they hated to do it, they needed a better explanation, or a judge would rip the statement to shreds. Before they had a chance to ask, though, Bobby went on slowly.

"When I interrogated Matic years ago… after I showed him the picture Maggie Coulter drew that identified him as her attacker… I said to him… _She got you_. He twisted that back on me. He was saying he was getting his revenge… that he got the best of me. But I recognised his voice, then."

"Would you recognise his voice again?" Elliot asked.

"Yes," Bobby confirmed softly, without hesitation.

"Can you tell us anymore?" Olivia asked gently. Bobby swallowed hard.

"Could I have some more water, please?"

Olivia held the glass for him once more, letting him sip carefully until he'd had enough. Then, as she placed the glass back on the table, he went on tremulously.

"I heard the other man… He told the one who… who raped me… he told Matic to be careful about what he said. And Matic… he said it didn't matter, because I couldn't see him to identify him. The other guy said it didn't matter if I couldn't see anything now, that I'd be able to identify him later on, if he wasn't careful. He… Matic said he knew a way to make sure I couldn't ever see him to identify him. They… They left the room, then. When they came back, one of them grabbed my head and pulled it back. They… They pulled off the blindfold, but before I could see anything…"

"What happened, Bobby?" Olivia pressed gently, ignoring Elliot's frown. "Tell us what they did."

Shuddering sobs shook through Bobby's body as the horrific memories began to finally overcome him.

"My eyes," he choked out between heart-rending sobs. "They burned my eyes… I think they used the poker from my fireplace. They put it against each of my eyes… burned them shut. It hurt… I screamed, I wanted someone to hear me… Someone to come and help me… But no one heard me screaming. No one came… No one… It hurt so much, I wanted to die… But I couldn't even pass out, it hurt so much." He sobbed hard, too distraught to continue.

"That'll do," Elliot murmured, deciding Bobby's endurance levels had just bottomed out. He reached for the tape recorder to stop it, but Olivia stopped him.

"Bobby," she said quietly, "what more can you tell us?"

"Olivia," Elliot growled, but she ignored him.

"Please, Bobby, you have to think carefully. Who was the second man?"

"I don't know," Bobby whispered between ragged sobs. "His voice was familiar, but he never said anything like Matic did. I don't know who he was."

"Maybe he did something, the way Matic said something that helped you to recognise him?"

"No," Bobby whimpered. "I… I can't…"

"We need you to think, Bobby," Olivia pressed. "You know how important it is. You need to give us a clue to work with here."

"I know," Bobby moaned. "I'm trying, but…"

"You have to try harder," she told him, her voice taking on an edge that Elliot had never heard from her before. "Somewhere in the middle of your memories, there's got to be a clue to who the second man was. You're the only one who can find it, and you know it. You have to try, Bobby. It's important."

Bobby broke down completely, then, sobbing helplessly as he tried to twist away from Olivia's uncharacteristically harsh voice.

"Okay, that's enough," Elliot snapped suddenly, grabbing the recorder and switching it off. "This interview is over. Bobby? You gonna be okay, pal?"

Bobby didn't answer, too distraught. Elliot glowered at his partner as he walked over and opened the door, urging Alex and Danny back in. Alex strode to the bedside, Bobby's pain and distress reflected in her expression.

"What the hell happened?" Danny demanded, looking from Elliot to Olivia for an explanation while Alex climbed up carefully onto the bed and held her stricken partner.

"What he told us was pretty difficult for him," Elliot explained when Olivia didn't answer. "He did good, though. Look, we're going to get going. We have to get this back to headquarters. Bobby? You did good, man."

Bobby shuddered, his sobs slowly starting to ease as the shock he'd experienced from the god-awful memories began to subside.

"Elliot…"

Elliot walked over to the bedside, but made no attempt to make physical contact with the injured man.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"If… If you come back later… I think I can tell you some more of what happened. Just you, though."

Elliot resisted the urge to look at his partner, knowing she was probably glaring openly at him.

"Okay, Bobby. If that's what you want to do. I'll come back later this evening. You take it easy, okay?"

Sparing Alex and Danny what he hoped was a reassuring smile, Elliot followed his partner from the room.

* * *

"All right, Liv," Elliot snapped once they were right away from the room. "You wanna tell me what the _fuck_ that was all about? Since when do we do the good cop, bad cop routine with rape victims?"

Olivia shook her head, turning away from him without answering. In his anger, Elliot grabbed her by the elbow, and jerked her around to look at him. The grief and regret he saw in her eyes brought him up short, though.

"You think I _liked_ doing that to him?" she choked out, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I didn't, Elliot. I hated it. But Bobby needs to be able to have complete and utter trust in someone to be able to tell them exactly what happened, every gruesome little detail and up until now, he didn't trust either one of us enough to be able to do that."

"Okay, I get that, but I don't understand why you went gung ho on him back there."

"Wake up, Elliot! We see it in rape victims every day. The inability to put significant trust in anyone? Only it's amplified about twenty times over in Bobby. He doesn't trust anyone now, not even Alex, not completely. Don't tell me you missed the way he flinched when she touched him. He was half a step away from lashing out at her. You know he was."

Elliot nodded grimly. He'd seen it, and it had him worried that Alex didn't seem to be aware of it. The question was, how long before Bobby lost that smidgeon of control, and did actually lash out at his apparently unsuspecting partner?

"I still don't understand why you acted like that with him, though," he protested. Olivia groaned softly.

"Damn it, Elliot… We need Bobby to tell us everything that happened to him, but he's not going to be able to do that unless he completely trusts us. He's just going to keep breaking down like he did just then."

"Uh, may I point out that you caused that breakdown, Liv?"

"My _point_, Elliot, is that he doesn't have enough strength in him to trust us both. If there's only one of us for him to focus on, then it might just be easier for him."

"Okay… let me get this straight. You came across as a hard ass just to put his focus onto me?"

"Yes."

"So he can feel more at ease, and not pressured?"

"Yes!"

Elliot shook his head wonderingly.

"Incredible."

Olivia sighed softly, and shook her head.

"If he can bring himself to trust just one of us to do right by him, then that's a good thing."

"But why me? I would've thought he'd be more willing to trust you. We haven't exactly had the friendliest relationship in the past, after all. That, and it was two men that attacked him, not two women."

"I know that, but I think he might relate better to another guy. He's already got Alex there, after all, and maternal concern can only go so far before it becomes overbearing."

Elliot looked back down the corridor towards Bobby's room, an incredulous look on his face.

"You played him. Damn, Liv, you deliberately played him so that he'd be willing to open up to me."

Olivia looked slightly embarrassed.

"I know. Not the usual tactics, but Bobby isn't your average victim, either. He would have seen through the standard reverse psychology in a second, even with the state of mind he's currently in."

"You know he's eventually gonna realise what you did, and then he's gonna raise hell. You do know that?"

Olivia grimaced as they began to walk again.

"Oh yeah, I know it. And believe me, I am not looking forward to it in the slightest."

* * *

Bobby shuddered slightly in Alex's embrace as he listened to the sound of Elliot and Olivia's footfalls receding down the corridor. He didn't understand right then why Olivia had turned on him like that so suddenly, but he was genuinely grateful to Elliot for his obvious concern. He _would _talk to Elliot when the detective came back later, but not to Olivia. If that was how she was going to be, he simply couldn't deal with it.

Slowly, his sobs eased, and he became aware of his surroundings once more. Most particularly, he became aware of Alex on the bed next to him, her arms wrapped gently around his shoulders.

It was true, he had almost pushed her right off the bed when she started to climb up beside him, and it had only been a supreme effort on his part that he hadn't done so. And when her arms went around his shoulders, he damn near threw up. But again, he managed to hold it in.

Then, slowly but surely, he found himself relaxing against her, relaxing into her embrace. Slowly, that sickening feeling in his gut at being touched… being held… faded, and a strange sense of security gradually took over.

Once he overcame that initial feeling of fear and nausea at being touched, and was able to consciously remind himself who it was that was in physical contact with him, the panic faded to make way for an inexplicable calm. He didn't understand it, but he welcomed it wholeheartedly.

"Bobby?"

Gradually, he became aware of a voice speaking softly in his ear. Alex's voice… God, it just about killed him to think that he might never see her face again.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

He didn't answer that. He just didn't know how. She tried again, tentatively elaborating.

"With this, I mean… Me holding you like this. Because if you don't want me to… If you don't want to be touched at all… I'll understand."

He subconsciously burrowed in more tightly against her. His hands hurt like hell and he didn't have the strength to reach around her and hold her to him. All he could do was plead, and hope she knew he was genuine.

"No… Please… Don't let go."

He heard her sigh very softly. For a split second he thought she was frustrated with him, but common sense took over a moment later and very firmly booted the remnants of his panic attack right off the radar. She wasn't frustrated – she was relieved.

"I won't let go," she murmured, and she hugged him gently to her. "I promise I won't."

* * *

Silence reigned for a good fifteen to twenty minutes as Alex cradled Bobby to her while Danny looked on in contemplative silence. Alex was just starting to wonder whether Bobby had fallen asleep again when movement in the doorway drew both hers and Danny's attention, and she looked around just as Deakins walked in, concern etched deep into his face.

"Is everything all right here?"

"Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson were here not too long ago, talking to Bobby," Alex explained quietly, making no effort to detach herself from her partner. If Deakins misread the situation, then so be it. She'd explain later.

He stood there for a long moment, eyeing Bobby and Alex intently before looking questioningly to Danny. Alex introduced him.

"That's Danny Cooper, Captain. Bobby's cousin."

Realisation dawned in Deakins' face, and he reached across to shake hands.

"Good to meet you, Mr Cooper. I'm Jim Deakins…"

"Oh, right, Bobby's captain. Don't call me Mr Cooper, though. Just Danny is fine."

Deakins nodded, then looked back to the bed.

"Bobby? Are you all right?"

Alex's speculation at whether her partner had fallen asleep again was answered a moment later when Bobby replied to Deakins gentle query in a barely audible voice.

"Do you really want an honest answer?"

"Yes," Deakins answered sincerely. "I do."

"No, I'm not," Bobby mumbled into Alex's shoulder. Deakins' expression turned grim.

"If they've treated you in any way badly…"

"No," Bobby cut in quickly… a little _too_ quickly for Deakins' liking. "No, it's okay… I mean…"

"What is it?" Deakins asked. Bobby drew in a long, slow breath.

"I asked Elliot to come back later to… to talk to him more… but not Olivia."

Deakins looked questioningly to Alex, the surprise evident on his face. Alex could understand his bewilderment. She, too, had been baffled when Bobby had asked Elliot to return later on that day, but had clearly indicated he wanted Olivia to stay away. She shook her head at him, telling him she didn't know what it was about anymore than he did.

"Well," Deakins said finally, "that's up to you. If you feel more at ease talking to Stabler, then so be it."

Bobby didn't answer the unspoken question in his captain's voice. He had no desire to tell any of them that he didn't want Olivia back because she'd become hostile towards him. The truth was, he suspected there was an underlying motivation in her actions that he, in his current state of mind, simply wasn't seeing, and he had no desire to get her into any trouble.

That, and it really was no one else's business why he should prefer to speak to one detective over the other, even if it seemed an odd choice.

"Nolan and Boyd were here earlier," Alex said, finally breaking the silence that had descended. Deakins nodded.

"The rest of the squad should be coming by a bit later this morning," he said, drawing a startled look from Alex. "They just had an errand to run first."

Alex bit her lip, resisting the near-overwhelming desire to make a sarcastic comment.

"Well… we'll keep an eye out for them, then." She looked questioningly at Deakins. "Are you staying for a while? Or is it another fly-by visit?"

Danny blanched visibly at her apparent disrespect, but Deakins disregarded her attitude. She was upset, and he knew that caustic side of her personality only too well. He also knew better than to take it personally.

"I'm staying," he confirmed. "I called the Chief of Detectives before coming here. I told him Major Case was shutting up shop for the rest of the day."

"Bet he loved that," Bobby muttered. Deakins smiled crookedly.

"I didn't give him a choice. I told him we had a colleague in hospital to support. He understood. He asked me to pass on his best wishes, Bobby."

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath, his throat tightening almost painfully with raw emotion, not so much at the message from the Chief of Detectives, but rather at the welcome, if somewhat belated, show of support from his fellow Major Case colleagues.

"Thankyou," he whispered, at a loss to say anything else. Deakins smiled sadly.

"You're welcome, Bobby."

* * *

_tbc..._


	13. Peace Offering

A/N: Yes, I finally got around to updating this one. My muse is so very fickle...  
On another note, I had planned on using the CSI: NY character of Mack Taylor only as a passing reference, but as it turned out, it fitted better to actually physically bring the character into the story. I'm not apologising - I like the character. Even if he is a little bit one-dimensional at the moment... I do promise, however, that his character is not a recurring feature in this story.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Bobby was asleep again, giving Alex, Danny and Deakins a chance to talk quietly.

"So you have no idea what happened when Benson and Stabler were talking to him?" Deakins asked. Alex shook her head.

"We waited outside. It was maybe ten minutes… fifteen at the most. Elliot opened the door to let us in. I don't know what happened, but he was looking pissed, and Olivia was completely on the defensive."

"I couldn't say for sure what happened," Danny said carefully, "but I have pretty good hearing, and I took the liberty of listening in on them after they left the room. I couldn't catch everything, but I _did_ hear the guy say to the woman 'Since when do we do the good cop, bad cop routine on rape victims'."

Deakins went rigid where he stood, his face going stormy with fury.

"They didn't…"

"Bobby was completely distraught when we came back in, Captain," Alex said softly. "The last time they talked to him, he was just wiped out… exhausted. This time, he seemed to be nearly on the verge of a breakdown."

Deakins stared at the sleeping detective for nearly a minute, taking in the way that he was cuddled in against Alex. His piercing gaze picked up on the slight tremors that passed through his body, and the faintest of whimpers that escaped his bruised lips.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said tightly, turning to the door. "I have a phone call to make."

"Captain, don't just go ballistic," Alex begged. "At least give them a chance to explain. I can't believe that either Elliot or Olivia… _especially_ Olivia… would deliberately do anything to hurt Bobby any worse than he's already been."

Deakins stared at her, considering her words before responding with a single nod and striding out of the room.

* * *

_SVU Headquarters_

"I'd be ducking for cover, if I were you," Munch said with a smirk as Elliot and Olivia walked back into the SVU bullpen nearly an hour later after stopping off on the way for a late breakfast. The two exchanged puzzled looks.

"What are you talking about, Munch?" Elliot growled. Fin walked over, regarding them grimly.

"What he means, kids, is that Cragen got a call from Jim Deakins about half an hour ago… something about unnecessarily cruel interview techniques, wasn't it, John? Cragen's been on the warpath since then, waiting for you two to get back. You guys didn't really go hostile on Goren, did you?"

Elliot looked grimly at Olivia.

"Nice one, Liv. Maybe next time you decide to play at being amateur shrink, you'll try it on someone who isn't a rape victim."

Fin and Munch gaped in shock.

"That was _you_, Olivia?" Fin asked in shock. She grimaced.

"Word spreads fast. Any idea who gave us up?"

Munch shook his head.

"Not a clue. You could ask Cragen, though. He's headed this way."

Elliot and Olivia wheeled around just as Cragen got to them.

"Elliot and Olivia," Cragen said tersely, "in my office, now."

Sharing rueful looks with their colleagues, they followed Cragen back to his office.

* * *

"Captain, if this is about the way we handled the interview with Goren…" Elliot started to say, but Cragen cut him off.

"No, Elliot, it's about the way Olivia handled it. I'm sure Fin and Munch have already told you, but I had a very angry Major Case captain on the phone not too long ago, and I have to say he's got every right to be angry. Olivia, what the hell were you thinking, treating Goren like a suspect? We do not go confrontational with rape victims, no matter who they are!"

Olivia glanced at Elliot, but he didn't speak. This was her mess to mop up, not his.

"Sir, I wasn't trying to treat Bobby like a suspect."

"Then what were you doing? And I suggest you think very carefully before you answer me."

"Sir," Olivia said slowly, "I wasn't trying to hurt him. I think he was only telling us the bare minimum of what he remembers, and he was doing that because he doesn't fully trust us. I thought if I backed out, and Elliot worked with him one on one, he might find it easier to open up."

"Except, this is Bobby Goren that we're talking about here," Elliot put in, anxious to make a show of defending his partner. "If she'd just come clean and said that, he would've clammed up faster than a steel trap."

"I didn't want to do it that way, Captain," Olivia insisted. "But we need him to completely trust us, and he just doesn't have it in him to trust both of us enough."

"I just want to know one thing," Cragen said, looking at the two of them piercingly. "Did it work?"

"I'll say," Elliot retorted. "After I let Alex and that guy Danny back in, Bobby asked me to come back later and he said be willing to talk to me again, one on one. He didn't want Olivia anywhere near him."

"Why you, though?" Cragen wondered. "Why not Olivia?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Elliot said, looking across at his partner.

Olivia favoured him with a flat stare.

"Would you have been willing to play the hard ass to him, Elliot?"

Elliot grimaced. "I guess not."

"Then there's your answer."

"Okay," Cragen said wearily. "I'll deal with Jim Deakins, but you'd better stay well away from the hospital for the time being, Olivia. Just for the moment, I'm swapping you folks around. Fin will work with you, Elliot, and you get the pleasure of working with Munch, Olivia."

"Wonderful," Olivia muttered. Cragen frowned warningly at her.

"You've only got yourself to blame. No matter what your intentions were, you still caused a victim a lot of otherwise unnecessary anguish. Now, I personally don't give a damn if Elliot interviews Goren alone, or otherwise, but the bottom line is that we still have two dangerous suspects out there somewhere who could quite conceivably decide to try and finish what they started. While that possibility remains, I don't want any of you going to that hospital alone, and you know you're not going to be welcome there, Olivia. So I suggest you just accept this for now."

"Are you finished, sir?" Elliot asked, acutely aware of the pained look on Olivia's face. "Can we go, then?"

"Just a second. I had a call from Mack Taylor over at CSU headquarters. I want you and Fin to get over there, Elliot, and hear what they've got."

"New evidence?" Olivia asked hopefully.

"I hope so. Taylor wouldn't elaborate over the phone, but whatever it was, he seemed pretty enthusiastic about it."

Elliot moved towards the door.

"Okay, I'll grab Fin, and we'll go check it out."

Cragen nodded.

"Good. And Olivia, I want you and Munch to check in with the units that have the Coulter residence. We have to find those other two scumbags before they _do _decide to have another go at Goren."

* * *

"So what's the verdict?" Fin asked as Elliot and Olivia emerged from Cragen's office.

"Cragen wants me to work with you for now, Fin," Elliot answered ruefully. "And Liv gets to work with Munch."

Fin could barely contain the smirk that formed on his face.

"Nice one, Liv."

"Shut up, Fin," she grumbled. Then, to Munch, "C'mon, John. We have to go check in with the guys who are watching the Coulter place."

"Have fun," Elliot called after them, and chuckled when Olivia shot him a death glare as she disappeared around the corner.

"What's next on our agenda, then?" Fin asked.

"We need to go pay a visit to CSU Headquarters," Elliot told him. "C'mon, I'll fill you in on the way."

* * *

CSI Detective Mack Taylor was waiting for Elliot and Fin when they arrived, and ushered them through to his office.

"What happened to Detective Benson?" Mack wondered. Elliot grimaced.

"She played the hard-ass to Bobby Goren when we interviewed him earlier this morning. Deakins went ballistic, so Cragen decided to give her a change of scenery."

When Mack raised an eyebrow, Fin elaborated.

"Cragen paired her off with Detective Munch, and I get to tag along with Elliot for a while."

"Ah," Mack said. "I see. I take it Goren was being none too cooperative."

"Actually, he was," Elliot answered. "Problem was, he just didn't trust us enough to open up totally to us. So Olivia came across as the hard-ass so that he'd put his focus on just me, rather than the both of us. I know, it's not the usual tactics."

"Maybe," Mack mused, "but Bobby Goren isn't your usual victim. In a situation like this, he's just too damned smart for his own good."

"That's what Olivia said," Elliot agreed. Mack nodded.

"And what about your suspects? Any luck catching them?"

Not for the first time, frustration showed visibly on Elliot's face.

"No sign of either. Damned sons of bitches have just disappeared like ghosts."

"They'll turn up sooner or later," Mack said with quiet confidence. "Scum like them always do. Okay, now, let's get to the reason you fellows are here." He reached across his desk, and plucked a report off the desk. "You know the sample of semen taken by the rape kit came up blank… literally."

Elliot nodded.

"Yeah. Did your people find something else?"

Mack smiled grimly, and handed the report to Elliot.

"My partner found a smear on the basin in the bathroom. Seminal fluid, and it's viable. And I'd say the bathroom is the one place our perps didn't take extra caution, because the basin also provided us with a couple of nice big fingerprints, one of which was imprinted _over_ the semen we found."

Fin peered at the report over Elliot's shoulder, and then looked back at Mack.

"You got DNA out of the semen?"

"We did, and we got a hit on it almost straight away."

"Who?" Elliot asked.

"Richard Cozza," Mack answered quietly.

"Oh, Christ," Elliot moaned softly. Again, Mack raised an eyebrow questioningly. Elliot explained reluctantly.

"One of the things Bobby hasn't been able to come clean over just yet. So far, he's only admitted to being raped by Matic."

"Cozza might not have actually raped him," Fin pointed out. Son of a bitch might have just jerked himself off in the bathroom."

"Maybe," Mack conceded, "but it's unlikely. After a second examination of all the bedclothes, we found a matching sample on one of the sheets."

"Hell," Elliot muttered. "Okay, thanks, Mack. Fin, we'd better get going, get this information back to Cragen. If you find anything else…"

Mack nodded.

"There is one more thing."

Elliot stared at Mack, sensing that he wasn't going to like what Mack had to tell them.

"What is it?"

"The fingerprint. We got a hit on it, too, and it wasn't Richard Cozza's."

"Whose was it?" Fin asked.

"Bobby Goren's older brother."

* * *

_Back at SVU_

"His _brother_?" Cragen asked incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"We wish we were," Elliot said grimly. "Mack Taylor said they found the fingerprint impression _on_ the semen, not on the basin underneath it. There's only one way that could have happened."

Cragen rubbed his hand roughly over his face.

"The son of a bitch was in Goren's apartment either during or after the attack. He lied to us. Okay, get Casey on the phone, stat, and let her know. The bastard just lost his deal."

"Do you want us to go back and talk to Goren?" Fin asked.

"No, not yet," Cragen murmured. "Elliot, he told you to come back some time later this afternoon, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Well, give him till then, at least. Damn, this is just getting worse the deeper we get into it."

Elliot stood up, and Fin followed suit.

"We'll call Casey," he said quietly. Cragen nodded wordlessly, and the two detectives headed silently out of his office to carry out the task.

* * *

_Later that day_

At both Danny and Deakins' insistence, Alex left the ICU just before lunch to buy what Danny jokingly classed as 'real food'. Alex hadn't laughed. She had too much experience with hospitals, and knew only too well that the quality of the food never failed to disappoint.

She had asked Bobby if he wanted her to get him anything purely out of courtesy, and had been pleasantly surprised, as well as highly amused, when he asked in a small voice for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Putting aside the seeming absurdity of it in her own mind, she'd cheerfully agreed and gone off to get the requested item.

Now, half an hour later, she made her way back to ICU with the bagged sandwich clutched tightly in her hands, and hoping that he hadn't lost what little appetite he had in the time that she'd been gone.

"Eames…?"

Alex looked around, and was barely able to conceal her surprise at the sight of three of her fellow Major Case detectives, Terry Hanlon, Chris Jackson and Dave Whitney, coming towards her. Her gaze went briefly to the heavy-looking bags they were carrying, and then back to their faces.

"Wow," she said dryly, before she had a chance to take a pull on her attitude. "Five of you turn up in the space of a few hours. Bobby should feel honoured."

None of them reacted to her barb, except to cringe visibly.

"We came to tell Bobby we're sorry for being assholes," Whitney told her quietly, "and to let him know he's got our support."

"He should have had that right from the start," she snapped. Hanlon nodded, his cheeks flame-red with embarrassment.

"We know. There's no excuse."

"No," Alex agreed coolly. "There's not."

"Look," Whitney said finally, "if Goren wants to be pissed off at us, then fair enough. We deserve it, we know. But we brought some stuff for him."

Her gaze went back to the bags.

"What sort of stuff?"

"Well… Have a look," Jackson offered, setting one bag on the floor and holding the other out for her to look in. She approached slowly, not quite sure what to expect. She couldn't quite suppress a squeak of surprise at what she saw inside.

"Books?" She looked up at them, stunned. "You went out and bought him books?"

"We all pooled in together," Whitney explained as she went from one bag to the next, examining their choices with growing amazement. "The captain gave us a list of titles, and we've all been out searching for them for the last few hours. Willis just found the last one of the list about twenty minutes ago, otherwise we would have been here sooner."

"How many did you end up getting?" Alex wondered.

The men exchanged grins.

"Well, Deakins gave us a list of around a dozen books, but a few of the places we went… When we explained they were for a cop who'd been attacked, they insisted on adding to what we'd already bought, no extra charge. I think we ended up with nearly forty books, altogether."

"You shouldn't have accepted freebies," Alex chided them lightly, though she sounded none-too-convinced. Hanlon shrugged.

"The people that gave them to us wouldn't take no for an answer. Besides, you don't have to look at them like that. Think of them as gifts from anonymous well-wishers."

Alex sighed softly and looked back up at them, her animosity gone.

"Thankyou. This is going to mean a lot to him."

"It doesn't make up for the way we acted to start with," Jackson said quietly, "but if it helps him now, then that's something, at least."

"Yes," Alex agreed softly. "It is. C'mon. I'll take you up to see him."

* * *

"Peanut butter and jelly," Deakins said again, unable to conceal an amused smirk.

Bobby groaned softly.

"Leave me alone."

Deakins and Danny exchanged grins. Bobby's odd request had amused them both. When he could have asked for just about anything – within reason – the request for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was almost childish in its simplicity.

"I'm sorry," Deakins apologised, fighting to suppress his grin. "I just never pictured you as a peanut butter and jelly sandwich kind of guy."

Bobby hesitated, then explained his request in a faltering voice.

"When I was a kid… when Mom was still okay… whenever I was sick, or hurt, she'd always make me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. After she got sick… and after Dad walked out… it didn't happen a lot. But every so often, when I was sick or hurt, Mom would make me sandwiches with peanut butter and jelly, and I'd know she was okay, at least for the time being. I… I guess old habits _are_ hard to break."

The smirks were effectively wiped off their faces at Bobby's admission. Danny sighed softly.

"We're sorry, Bobby. We didn't mean to make a joke of it."

"It's okay," Bobby whispered. Damn, he was getting choked up again… "Could do with a few more jokes. There's not a lot to smile at right now."

Again, Deakins and Danny exchanged rueful looks. The sad thing was that neither of them knew what they could possibly do to change that. They were still considering how to answer him when Alex walked back in.

"One peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go," she announced, setting the paper bag on the table. "And three stray Major Case detectives on the side."

Bobby's head turned in reaction to her words. She smiled, knowing she had his attention.

"I found Hanlon, Jackson and Whitney slinking around downstairs, and thought I'd put them out of their misery and bring them up."

"Put _us_ out of our misery?" Whitney retorted as he led the way into the room. "That's rich, Eames. Hey, Goren."

He stopped short of asking the standard 'how are you' question, much to Bobby's relief. He was getting well and truly fed up with being constantly asked how he was, when he believed it should have been pretty damned obvious how he was feeling.

"Whitney," he responded, his voice soft and strained. Whitney glanced back to ensure that his colleagues hadn't chickened out on him, then returned his attention to Bobby as he approached the bedside.

"Listen, the rest of the guys wanted to come up, but we figured it wouldn't be fair to inundate you, so a few of them will come up later today, and the rest of them will come tomorrow to see you. And we… um, we got some things for you."

"What is it?" Bobby asked softly, his interest piqued. Whitney hesitated for just a moment, looking first to Deakins and then to Alex for some sort of encouragement. All of a sudden, he wasn't sure how their gesture would be received by their injured colleague. Deakins nodded in wordless support, as did Alex. Grimacing just a little, Whitney lifted the bag he was carrying up onto the bed, setting it carefully beside Bobby. He pulled out a book at random and set it gently on Bobby's lap.

Trembling just slightly, Bobby lifted his right hand and let it come to rest on the hard cover of the book.

"What is it?"

"It's a hardcover edition of _The Hobbit_," Alex told him quickly, before anyone brainlessly answered with the obvious retort. "One of your favourites."

Bobby swallowed hard.

"Th… Thankyou."

"Uh… That isn't all we brought," Jackson said as he joined Whitney at the bedside. "I think we've got around thirty-five books here, all up. And just so you don't wonder, they aren't loans. They're all yours, pal."

Bobby didn't answer. He couldn't answer, suddenly overwhelmed by their generosity.

"How…?" Danny asked in amazement as he looked into one of the bags.

"We all threw in together," Whitney answered quietly. "We figured we owed it to Bobby to do something decent for him after the way we acted."

"It's okay," Bobby mumbled.

"No, it's not," Hanlon said firmly. "It wasn't okay that we turned our backs when we should have been here for you. It was a lousy thing to do. We just hope that this might go some of the way towards showing you that we're sorry."

Bobby sighed faintly.

"I… I won't say it didn't hurt… But I understood."

"That's what we were afraid of," Jackson said grimly. "You know, sometimes you're just too damned intuitive for your own good, Goren?"

A tiny smile quirked across Bobby's bruised lips.

"What were you hoping for, Jackson? That you could come in here and make out like you'd just been busy? And I'd let you off the hook? You owe me the courtesy of at least one major guilt trip."

Jackson laughed, then, as did Hanlon and Whitney. Alex glanced over at Deakins, and the two shared a small, relieved smile. What a difference a unanimous show of support made…

"All right, smart ass," Whitney said with a laugh, and was quietly gratified when Bobby's smile widened noticeably. "You've got the whole damn squad on one collective guilt trip. I suggest you just take what you can get, while you can get it. Okay?"

Bobby laughed softly, a sound that was welcome to all their ears. He reached tentatively for the bag, but stopped short of actually trying to grab it.

"What else did you bring?"

Whitney's grin widened, and he began to pull books out of the bag, naming each one as he did so. Alex watched silently for a long moment before moving back to stand next to Deakins.

"You pulled this off," she murmured to him softly. It wasn't a question. Deakins favoured her with a warm smile.

"Sorry, Alex, but no. I suggested the books, but they took the initiative themselves."

She wiped absently at her eyes.

"I never thought they'd have the balls to come down off their pedestals and admit they were wrong."

Deakins laid a hand gently, albeit briefly, on her shoulder in a fatherly gesture.

"Nothing's impossible, Alex. You need to remember that."

She didn't answer, her gaze going back to her partner… to his broken hands… to his burned eyes… to his battered body. She wanted desperately to believe his words. If she could just bring herself to believe it, it would make the immediate future seem so much less bleak.

The sudden, shrill ring of Deakins' cell phone cut through the otherwise quiet room, startling all of them. Frowning a little at the unwanted interruption, he moved away to the far corner of the room to answer the call. All the while watching Deakins out of the corner of her eye, Alex returned to her partner's side, and picked up one of the books. A moment later, she finally registered the title, and laughed aloud.

"_Lady Chatterley's Lover_? Oh, I am _not_ reading that to you, pal."

"Not at all?" Bobby asked, trying hard to sound plaintive, and failing miserably. Alex snorted derisively.

"Not a chance, Bobby. You can save that one for when the bandages come off."

He smiled faintly, but didn't answer the comment. As much as he appreciated her positive attitude, he couldn't quite bring himself to share in her certainty. He wanted to believe his reticence was simply a matter of not raising false hopes, but a darker part of his mind and soul whispered a grimmer truth, a truth that he could not bear to face. Not now… and perhaps not ever.

"Thankyou," Deakins said suddenly, the volume of his voice rising enough that it drew everyone's attention. "I appreciate the head's up, Don."

"What is it?" Alex asked as Deakins ended the call. He looked up at her, and then to Bobby.

"That was Don Cragen, Bobby. Simon Matic was arrested in New Jersey a couple of hours ago. He's on his way back here now. SVU will have him in their custody within the hour."

* * *

_tbc..._


	14. Alarming Discoveries

_A/N: Updated, to avoid discrepancies in later chapters.

* * *

_

SVU

"What the hell happened to him?" Cragen asked as Olivia and Munch came into the observation room after delivering Matic to interrogation. The bruising coming up on Matic's face and arms was only too apparent. Munch shrugged.

"He fell over. A lot."

Cragen groaned softly.

"Wonderful."

"Don't look at us," Olivia protested. "We never laid a hand on him other than to escort him here from the One-Nine. It was the Jersey cops who laid into him. They said he resisted arrest. Apparently he broke the jaw of one of the cops that collared him, and head-butted another."

"As long as we don't see repercussions when it goes to court," Cragen growled.

"Elliot and Fin get anything from CSU?" Olivia asked in an effort to change the subject, and also because she was still quietly annoyed that she was stuck doing the grunt work with Munch.

"As a matter of fact," Cragen answered, "yes. CSU found a second sample of seminal fluid. They've matched the DNA to Richard Cozza. And they found a fingerprint belonging to Richard Goren in the bathroom."

"That's not going to prove anything," Munch pointed out. "He's Goren's brother. It's a totally reasonable possibility that he used the bathroom while he was there earlier."

"They found it imprinted on the basin _over the top _of the sample of semen they found that came from Cozza."

"Oh, fuck," Olivia whispered. Cragen nodded.

"Exactly. The lying son of a bitch was there either during or after his brother was attacked. I'm betting it was during. Now, as soon as Matic's lawyer gets here, I want you two to get stuck into that monster in there. Goad him, bully him, do whatever you have to, short of actually slapping him around. But I want something solid out of him."

Olivia nodded.

"We'll get it. Don't worry."

* * *

"Simon Matic," Olivia said calmly as she and Munch walked into the interrogation room. Matic looked sullenly up at the two of them.

"You have no cause to be holding my client," Matic's lawyer stated primly. "You have no evidence of him having committed any crime, let alone assaulting anyone."

"Well, let's see here," Olivia said as she sat down and began flipping through the file on the desk in front of her. "We have a victim statement here that identifies your client as one of the people who assaulted him."

"A judge will never commit my client for trial on the basis of a statement from an assault victim who can't even see."

"We also have a statement from the victim's brother," Munch added blithely, "testifying to Mr Matic's direct involvement in the assault on Detective Goren."

"Hearsay," the lawyer shot back. "You have no solid proof that my client was even inside Detective Goren's apartment, let alone that he had anything to do with the assault."

Olivia closed the file, and turned her full attention onto Matic.

"You must have been pretty pissed when you realised Detective Goren had nailed you for raping that little girl."

Matic stared at Olivia, his jaw twitching just slightly.

"Be quiet," his lawyer warned him in a low voice. "You don't have to say anything. Don't give them ammunition."

"Funny," Munch mused. "Isn't that more or less what your partner in crime told you when you couldn't keep your trap shut? When you leaned in close and whispered into Goren's ear? What was it that you said again…?"

"I got you," Olivia said. Munch nodded.

"That's right. _I got you_. You know something? That's how he knew who you were. Even though you had him blindfolded at the time, and then you tried to blind him by burning his eyes, he still recognised your voice, because you just couldn't resist rubbing it in and gloating. That was _really_ smart, wasn't it?"

"You've got nothing," Matic snapped. "Not a goddamned thing."

Olivia and Munch glanced at each other, small, tight smiles on their faces at Matic's heated reaction.

"Actually," Olivia said, "I think we have more than enough without you having to ever say a word. Let us give you a rundown of what we know."

"Oh," Munch said, "and feel free to correct us if we have anything wrong."

"You met Detective Goren's brother, Richie, in prison," Olivia went on, sounding casual but watching Matic with an eagle eye. "You found out who he was, and decided you'd take advantage of a golden opportunity. Instead of trying to kill him, like everyone else was doing, you offered to protect him. You made friends with him, earned his trust. Then, a couple of years later, Richard Cozza arrived on the scene, and you brought him in on the scam, too. The two of you acted like Richie's personal body guards until you were all released from prison. Then, you tracked him down. You told him he owed you protection money, and when he said he didn't have the money, you suggested that maybe he could get it from his little brother. Or maybe, if he couldn't get his brother to pay up, then maybe you could get your dues another way."

Munch took over smoothly.

"You told Richie that if he couldn't get the money, then you'd take your payment in the form of a little _payback_. You told him that you just wanted to smack his brother around a little, right? That you wanted to just give him a scare. Except, you planned on doing more than just scaring him, didn't you? Cozza got a hold of some chlorphenesin, and he tells Richie to dope his brother's drink if he won't come up with the money."

"Then, you waited for Richie to come out of his brother's place on Saturday night," Olivia went on. "You knew already he was going to say he couldn't get the money. You counted on him saying that he couldn't get it. So now you figure you have free reign. You make sure he doped his brother up with the chlorphenesin, and then you tell Richie to get lost. Then you let yourselves into Detective Goren's apartment, and you don't leave again until some time between ten and noon the next morning."

"And before you protest, Counsellor," Munch cut in even as the lawyer opened his mouth to argue against their interpretation of events, "we have a positive ID of your client from the superintendent of Detective Goren's building. He's already provided a statement saying that your client threatened to kill him if he didn't make sure the security systems and the sprinkler system was switched off overnight, and turned back on again at noon the next day."

The lawyer took the copy of the statement from Munch, and read through it briefly before sparing Matic a worried glance. Olivia smiled sweetly.

"How are we doing so far?"

Matic turned a dangerous look on Olivia.

"Richie talked to you?"

"Yes, he did," Olivia confirmed.

"That's what he told you? That we planned it all? Me… and Chops?"

"That's what he told us," Olivia answered. "He's put it all on you and Cozza, Simon. He grabbed a deal for himself, and put all the blame on the two of you. He said you manipulated him into giving up his brother to you."

Anger flashed across Matic's face.

"That piece of shit. That lying piece of shit!"

"You have a different take on things?" Munch asked. Matic glowered at the two of them.

"It was _his_ idea," Matic said in a soft, tense voice. "Not ours."

"Whose idea?" Olivia asked. "Richie's?"

"Yes," Matic spat. "That lousy lowlife. He planned it. He planned everything."

Munch leaned forward across the table.

"Convince us."

For nearly a minute, Matic said nothing. Olivia and Munch waited patiently, knowing they'd sufficiently pushed Matic's buttons to get something out of him. Alex's advice on how to deal with Matic when they finally caught him had paid off, although the allegation that Richie had planned the attack was a disturbing development.

"When I got to prison, I found out about Richie from the other inmates. He was in protective custody then. I pushed for the warden to put him in with me. I was going to hurt him… I wanted to kill him… because I couldn't hurt his brother. When the warden finally put him with me, I told him who I was… that his brother was responsible for putting me in prison. He asked what I'd done, and I told him. Then he asked if I'd like to help him out with a little bit of payback."

"_He_ asked_ you_," Munch said flatly. Matic nodded, scowling.

"That's right. He asked me, and if he's told you any different, he's a liar."

"What, exactly, did he say?" Olivia asked softly.

Matic stared at the table top, scowling.

"He said he owed his brother. That he went to prison because his brother wouldn't speak for him at his trial… that he refused to act as a character witness. Some bullshit like that. Richie blamed his brother for being in prison… He blamed him for everything that had happened to him while he was in prison. He said he wanted a piece of his brother, and he was happy to let me in on the action, if I wanted."

"And you figured, why not?" Munch said. Matic looked up at him, and then smirked.

"Sure. Why not? Seemed like a good idea. My lawyer said there was a good chance I could get my sentence reduced, to be patient."

"So you had plenty of time to plan what you were going to do," Olivia said, fighting to suppress her disgust. Matic snorted derisively.

"Plan? We didn't plan anything. Richie already had it worked out."

"The attack?" Munch asked, and Matic nodded.

"Yes. The attack, and how to get into his apartment to start with. He had _everything_ figured out. And he couldn't wait to get out of prison to put it into action. Me? I didn't really care either way. I liked the idea of getting back at Goren. But I wasn't holding my breath. I looked out for Richie because I liked him. He was… funny. And it was… amusing, listening to what he planned on doing to his brother. But when I got out of prison, I didn't care about revenge so much. But then Richie found _me_. _He_ came after _me._ He said he and Chops were ready to go ahead with the plan, and they were just waiting for me. I thought about it… and I thought, why not?"

"Tell us about the assault," Olivia said quietly. She was feeling sick to her stomach by now, nauseated by the thought that Richard Goren had orchestrated the assault on his younger brother. She hoped desperately that Matic would say something to contradict himself, but she knew that wasn't going to happen. Something in his story rang true, as little as she wanted to admit it.

Matic sat back, his expression becoming guarded.

"I tell you… and what do I get? Life? Death, maybe?"

"You violently assaulted and raped a police officer," Munch growled. "Don't think you aren't going to get life for this. But you cooperate now, and the DA might just be convinced not to ask for the death penalty."

Matic looked across at his lawyer, who in turn spoke to Olivia and Munch.

"Could you give us a few minutes, please?"

Olivia and Munch exited the room without a word of protest.

* * *

"Nice job," Cragen commented wryly as they joined him and Casey Novak in the observation room. "Even if he won't say anything more, we still have plenty to formally charge him, and send him to trial."

"He says Bobby's brother planned the whole thing," Olivia said softly, worry creasing her forehead. "If that's true…"

"If it's true," Casey said firmly, "then Richard Goren can kiss his life goodbye. I'm not going to let him skate through this just to nail Matic and Cozza. Not if the assault was his idea to begin with. Even if Branch won't agree to the death penalty, I won't accept anything less than life in prison."

"Never mind that," Munch said quietly. "It doesn't matter what Matic will or won't say. CSU have Goren snr at the scene with that fingerprint they found in the bathroom. So even if he didn't physically partake, he was still there. We can nail him for conspiracy at the very least. What this is going to do is just about finish Bobby Goren off. Sooner or later he's going to remember everything, and that includes his brother's… participation. When that happens, it ain't gonna be pretty."

"We'll deal with that when we have to," Cragen said in a noticeably more subdued voice. "Right now, we have this mutt to deal with. It looks like they're done talking. Get back in there and seal this one. I don't want any holes showing by the time we find Cozza."

Olivia and Munch left the room silently, leaving Cragen with Casey.

"You're really going to push for the death penalty for Richard Goren?" he asked quietly. Casey nodded decisively.

"Richard Goren wasn't the innocent victim of circumstance that he wanted us to think he was, Captain. If Mr Matic is to be believed, he's been planning this assault for most of the time that he was in prison."

Cragen sighed softly.

"Munch is right. This is going to just about kill Bobby Goren."

"You think I don't know that?" Casey asked. "I'm well aware of how this might affect Detective Goren and I'm going to sound like a bitch for saying this, but you know I have to consider everything. And my biggest worry is that Detective Goren will refuse to testify against his brother."

Cragen nodded, understanding immediately where she was coming from with that.

"If he won't testify, we may not get a conviction."

"You said earlier that he seems to trust Elliot."

A grimace passed over Cragen's features.

"Yes, that seems to be the case."

"Then have Elliot push the importance of him being willing to testify against his brother."

Cragen turned to face her, his expression tired and grim.

"This is Detective Robert Goren you're talking about, Casey. Not some green rookie. He'll already know how important it is to getting convictions that he testify, even if it's his own brother that he's testifying against. No matter what emotional state he's in, don't think he won't already be aware of that. You need to give the man a chance to pull himself together some. Once he does, I don't think you'll need to worry about whether or not he'll testify."

Casey looked sceptical.

"You really think his brother means that little to him, Captain?"

Cragen answered that question with silence. For nearly a minute, he stood and watched his two detectives as they listened to Simon Matic tell his disturbing tale. Finally, he turned to the door.

"I have a phone call to make."

Then he was gone, leaving Casey alone in the observation room.

* * *

Back in the privacy of his office, Cragen called his colleague at Narcotics, Captain Bill Dodson.

"_Hey, Don_," Dodson greeted him cheerfully. "_How're you doing?_"

"Not too bad," Cragen answered.

"_How's it coming with the Bobby Goren assault case?_"

"Ah, we're getting there slowly. I need to ask you something, though. You handled a case about four years ago. Richard Goren…?"

"_You mean Bobby Goren's older brother? Yeah, drug bust and violent assault. Two for one, that was. Son of a bitch got off easy. Why the interest now? Don't tell me he had something to do with the assault on Bobby?_"

Cragen carefully evaded answering that question for the moment.

"Can you tell me whether Richard was in contact with his brother in the lead up to his trial?"

"_Yeah, I remember it clear as day. Bobby came across to our squad room. He said he'd had a call from his brother's lawyer asking him to testify on his brother's behalf, and act as a character witness. Bobby came and saw me about it, and when he told me what the lawyer wanted him to do, I thought great, there goes our case. With Bobby testifying on that mutt's behalf, we were screwed._"

"But he didn't, did he?"

Dodson gave a short laugh.

"_No. He said he couldn't in good conscience be a character witness for someone who he… quote, knew for a fact didn't have any character, unquote. I admit I was surprised. After the incident a few years previous, I thought he'd consider this hardly a spit in the ocean._"

"What incident was this?" Cragen asked.

"_I got a call from the hospital one night… This was around two years before Bobby joined Major Case. He'd admitted himself to hospital with five or six stab wounds. Turned out his brother came to him for drugs, and when Bobby refused, Richie attacked him. I tried to get Bobby to press charges, but he wouldn't do it. Anyway, I guess Bobby got his own back when Richie landed in hot water a few years later. There was no one else Richie could rely on to testify for him at his trial. It was an easy conviction. Too bad the sentence didn't match the crime_."

"You think he was pissed off at his brother?"

"_Hell, yes. He blamed Bobby exclusively for being sent to Rikers. He may be right, too. I think we still would have gotten a conviction, but Richie probably would have ended up with some sort of suspended sentence if Bobby had testified for him. Richie knew it, too. He was spouting all sorts of bullshit against Bobby when they hauled his ass out of the courtroom that day. Said that everything that happened to him in prison, he'd visit it back on Bobby tenfold… all that crap. Bastard was full of hot air, and then some. Why are you asking, though? Have you nailed Richie for something?"_

"Yes," Cragen answered, feeling sick to his stomach. "We have him for the assault of his brother."

There was a long silence on the end of the phone.

"_Richie was responsible for the attack on Bobby?_"

"One of three, actually. The bastard recruited a couple of perps in prison that Goren had put away."

"_Oh… fuck…_"

"Bill, if we need you to, will you be willing to testify in court to all of what you just told me?"

"_Hell, Don, you don't even have to ask. You think Bobby won't testify, though?_"

"We don't know. Truth is that I don't think he's doing too great at the moment, Bill. I honestly don't know how he's going to react when it comes to actually getting onto the stand and giving evidence against his own brother."

"_Okay, well, you know you can rely on me. And I might go and pay Bobby a visit in hospital, too_."

"Go easy with him, Bill. It's worse than you probably realise."

"_How much worse?_"

"How much do you know?"

Dodson hesitated in answering.

"_All I know is that he got the crap beaten out of him. Tell me, Don… Was he raped? I mean, with your team investigating_…"

"Yes," Cragen admitted softly. "He was."

"_Damn. Goddamn it_…"

"I know," Cragen said quietly. "Bill, I have to go…"

"_Sure, Don. Bobby's at St Clare's, right?_"

"Yes, in the ICU wing."

"_Okay. I might give Jim Deakins a call, and see if there's anything I can bring him._"

"Books," Cragen said abruptly. There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

"_Books?_"

"The bastards that attacked him burned all of his books," Cragen answered. "They trashed pretty much everything he owns."

"_I see. Okay, then, I'll see what I can do. I'll talk to you later, Don_."

Cragen murmured a goodbye and hung up the phone. Dodson's words confirmed his suspicions that Matic had been telling the truth. It sounded as though Richard Goren had a long history of potentially violent disagreements with his younger brother, and it definitely looked as though he was holding a seriously big grudge.

Cragen could only hope that Bobby remembered something to place Richie at the scene, and actually participating. He hoped that Bobby didn't already remember, and was just covering for his brother. He didn't think that was the case. He doubted that Bobby had enough consideration for his brother to do that, but there was just no telling.

Grimacing, Cragen rose out of his seat and hurried from his office. He had people to see.

* * *

_Bobby Goren's apartment_

Deakins paused in the doorway of Bobby's apartment, looking inside with a grimace. The scene had been thoroughly processed and cleared by CSU, but it was still a disaster zone. It was going to take some tremendous effort to clean the place sufficiently, and even then Deakins couldn't imagine Bobby wanting to come back here, ever.

He ventured inside slowly, not even sure what he was doing there, but feeling an insane need to see the place once more, to take everything in.

He walked across the floor, treading carefully around the over-turned furniture, and the pile of ash that had once been Bobby's treasured collection of books. His gaze went to the floor, the only space that was clear of ruined furniture and anything similar. There were, however, bloodied marks on the carpet, along with very distinct drag marks.

Deakins shuddered. He'd seen plenty of awful things in his time as a cop, but there was something particularly awful about the situation when the victim was a friend or a colleague. In this instance, in Deakins' opinion, Bobby counted as both. He didn't always agree with the big detective, but he'd learned over the last five years that if he gave the guy plenty of space, the result generally turned out to their benefit. He'd learned to respect Bobby, and respect the way he worked, and Bobby had gradually come to respect him in return.

Deakins turned away and followed the drag marks across the floor to the bedroom.

Here was the worst part of the scene. If it was hard for Bobby just to come back to his apartment, it was going to be near to impossible for him to set foot inside this room again.

His gaze went automatically to the bed, to the ruined sheets and blood-stained mattress. There was nothing left of the tools with which Bobby had been tortured – CSU had collected all of that as evidence. But the telltale signs remained that indicated only to clearly what had gone on inside the detective's bedroom.

Torture… The word sent chills down Deakins' spine, and yet that was exactly what had happened to Bobby. He _had_ been tortured.

Suddenly feeling sick, Deakins backed quickly out of the room, and headed for the front door. He didn't know why he had come here. With the exception of a few pieces of clothing, which Alex and Lewis had collected the other evening, there was nothing salvageable in the entire place. He was almost to the door when the phone rang.

Deakins froze, caught off-guard by the unexpected sound. For a moment he was confused. Then he remembered that Bobby's attackers hadn't actually cut the connection, they'd just left the phone off the hook.

Sly, Deakins remembered thinking when he'd been told about it. Cutting the line would have set the alarms ringing with someone, but in leaving the phone off the hook it gave the impression that Bobby was home, but unwilling to talk to anyone.

He stood in silence, listening to it ring five or six times before some indescribable force led him to walk over and pick it up.

"Hello?"

There was a brief, somewhat startled silence on the other end, and then a voice spoke tentatively.

"_Could I speak to Robert Goren, please?_"

Deakins swallowed hard before answering.

"He's unavailable." _God, what an understatement_…

"_Who is this?_"

"This is Captain James Deakins. I'm Detective Goren's supervisor. Who am I speaking to?"

Again there was a brief silence before the voice replied.

"_I'm Dr Derek Shimo. I work at the Carmel Ridge Centre. Robert's mother is in my care._"

Deakins drew in a sharp breath. Sure, Bobby had only been in hospital for a couple of days, but not one of them had thought of his mother. And hadn't Alex said once that he phoned his mother every day…? Dr Shimo went on in a tone that reeked with displeasure.

"_I've been attempting to reach Robert for two days now regarding his mother_."

Deakins felt his stomach drop unpleasantly. What more was going to go wrong for Bobby?

"What's happened to her?"

"_I'm sorry, I can't discuss that with anyone other than Detective Goren. Do you know where he is? Because he seems to be trying very hard not to be contacted, and I would have thought he'd have more consideration for his mother than that._"

Deakins bristled at the hurtful barb.

"As a matter of fact, I do know where he is," Deakins answered sharply, "but I can also tell you that you won't be able to get through to him, because I don't think they have phones in the room in the ICU wing of St Clare's."

A lengthy silence followed the statement.

"_I… I'm sorry… Are you saying Robert is in hospital?_"

"Yes," Deakins answered after taking a moment to draw in a calming breath. "He was assaulted in a violent home invasion over the weekend, and he's been very severely injured."

"_Oh dear God_…"

"Now," Deakins went on tersely, "I'd appreciate it greatly if you would tell me what has happened with Detective Goren's mother, so that we can work out a solution that will be beneficial to both her and her son…"

* * *

_tbc..._


	15. Mixed Blessings

_A/N_: Damn. Even when I try to give the poor guy some relief, it still gets twisted. Oh well. That's the way it's going...

Oh, I issued a content warning for a previous chapter that, in retrospect, probably didn't need it. I'm issuing another content warning for this chapter, and in this instance I feel it _is_ justified. It may not be as explicit as you might expect, but I'm saying it anyway. If descriptions of violent abuse, rape and sodomy bother you, avoid the section in italics.

* * *

"'Scusie…"

Deakins looked around as he exited Bobby's apartment to see an elderly lady coming towards him in the hallway. This, he guessed from Alex's descriptions, was Bobby's neighbour, Rosa Pirelli.

"Mrs Pirelli?" he asked tentatively. She nodded, not the least bit surprised that he was able to identify her.

"Yes. Please, do you work with Robert? Can you tell me how he is? No one knows anything, and I'm afraid for him."

Deakins laid a hand reassuringly on the old lady's shoulder.

"He's alive, Mrs Pirelli. He came though that first twenty four hour period safely. He's not going to die."

"Oh, thank God," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

"He's been very badly hurt, though," Deakins went on carefully. "He could be in hospital for some time yet."

"Can he have visitors?" she asked tentatively. "I could come see him… perhaps bring some things for him."

At that, Deakins hesitated. He was reluctant to say yes, if only because of what Alex had told him about Bobby's growing bitterness towards his neighbours for their apparent disregard towards him. He wanted to say yes, but he just didn't know how Bobby might react to her. He didn't think the big detective would turn on her, if only out of an acute sense of propriety, but did he really want to put either Bobby, or this sweet little old lady, in that position? He didn't think so; at least, not until Bobby had had a better chance to deal with what had happened to him.

"Visitors are restricted at the moment, Mrs Pirelli," he told her gently. "But I promise I'll let you know as soon as it's possible for you to come and see him."

She nodded, unhappy but still accepting of his words.

"I understand," she murmured, and in that moment, Deakins had a powerful suspicion that she understood far more than he thought he'd let on about. "Please, would you let him know he's in my prayers? And if there's anything he needs, anything at all, I'll be glad to help."

Deakins nodded.

"I'll let him know, Mrs Pirelli. Thankyou."

She paused, then clasped Deakins' hands in her own just briefly.

"And please, tell him I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I heard the noises, but I did nothing. I should have called for help then, but I did nothing. I'm sorry…"

He made no effort to tell her it was all right. They both knew better than that. Instead, Deakins nodded in acquiescence.

"I'll tell him, Mrs Pirelli."

She nodded in tearful gratitude.

"Thankyou."

* * *

"Alex…?"

Alex came over to the bedside, and gently laid a hand on Bobby's shoulder to reassure him of her presence. With the exception of the two officers standing watch outside the door of Bobby's room, she was the only one there right at the moment. Deakins had left some time before, saying he had some things to see to. What 'things', she didn't know, and he didn't offer to explain.

Danny had also left for a short while, to get some much-needed rest. Bobby had been in and out of consciousness – more out than in, and she'd suggested it might be a good time for him to return to his hotel and get a little bit of rest. He'd gone, if somewhat reluctantly.

"I'm right here," she answered him softly, watching with not so little relief as the distress that marred his bruised features faded in response to her reassuring touch.

He sighed faintly.

"I'm sorry."

She frowned. "What for?"

"You shouldn't… have to…"

"I shouldn't have to what?" she pressed, not liking where he seemed to be headed.

"Shouldn't be obliged to stay here."

"I can't believe you just said that," Alex said softly, stung by his words. "You really think I'm only here because of some sense of obligation? As what, your partner? Because if that's what you really think, then maybe I should just walk out of here right now. _Is_ it what you really think, Bobby? And I suggest you think that over very carefully before you answer."

He met that question with silence.

"I… I don't think that," he stammered. "I just… I…"

He trailed off, helpless to find the right words. Alex shut her eyes for a moment, gathering up her self-control. If she'd just taken a moment to think that one through, she would have known that the words that actually came out of his mouth were not adequate to convey what he really meant. He was concerned about her, and as much as he wanted the company, he didn't want her to suffer along with him.

She brushed her fingertips lightly against his bruised cheek, acutely aware of the way he flinched just slightly at the initial contact before relaxing and turning towards her touch.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I know you don't think that. I know you didn't mean that the way it came out. I didn't mean to snap."

"Please, don't go," he begged.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "I'm staying right here."

He swallowed, wincing at the pain it caused to his swollen and bruised throat.

"My mom used to say that to me… whenever I got sick. When... When she was well enough to look after me, I mean. She's probably worried sick… because I haven't called her since I saw her on Saturday."

"She'll be all right," Alex murmured, wishing she could get him to stop worrying himself about other people, and just concern himself _with_ himself. "The doctors will take care of her."

Bobby tried to lift his left hand off the bedcovers, but the effort proved too much, and the damaged hand collapsed back onto the blankets.

"What is it?" Alex asked, watching him concernedly. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, struggling against the threat of exhaustion. "A cell phone."

Alex bit down briefly on her lower lip.

"Bobby…"

"I need to talk to her," he pleaded. "Alex, please, I have to be able to talk to her. She… She doesn't deal well with having her routine upset. I call her every day… She expects it. It's part of her routine. She was doing really well, but this might tip her back into one of her delusions. I need to talk to her… so she can hear my voice… so she knows I'm okay."

Alex drew in an unsteady breath.

"But Bobby… you're _not_ okay."

Her simple words brought him up short. He lay still, trembling against her gentle touch as the reality of his situation sank in once more. She watched him fearfully, anticipating another breakdown, but it didn't happen. Instead, he spoke in a soft, defeated voice.

"What books did they bring again?"

Alex didn't know whether to smile or to cry. Struggling to retain control over her own emotions, she reached for the nearest bag and lifted it up onto the little table.

"You want me to read something to you?"

"Yes… Please… If you don't mind…"

She would have laughed if the situation weren't so damned heart-breaking. To have Bobby Goren, Detective First Grade and the bane of the New York Criminal Underworld, asking to have a book read to him like a little child literally gutted her.

Swallowing the desire to shed more tears, Alex pulled the books out, looking them over thoughtfully before her gaze fell on one that she knew to be a particular favourite of his.

"Here's one. How about _Moby Dick_?"

A faint sigh escaped him.

"Good choice," he murmured.

Alex smiled and took care to tuck the rest of the books back into the bag before sitting back down beside the bed.

"Could you…?"

She looked up at him questioningly when he faltered.

"Could I what, Bobby?"

Still he hesitated, and she realised with a mixture of sadness and amusement that he was actually embarrassed. Finally, though, he found his tongue and asked what he wanted to ask.

"Could you sit up here… on the bed…? Please…?"

Alex couldn't hide her smile as she abandoned the chair and climbed up carefully to join him on the bed. That he wanted to be close to her… or to anyone… was a good sign that perhaps whatever emotional damage had been done wasn't permanent.

She settled back against the multitude of pillows, and her smile widened as he leaned in against her, resting his head carefully on her shoulder.

"Comfortable?" she asked gently, and he responded in the positive with a wordless grunt. Still smiling, Alex opened the book to the first page and began to read.

* * *

_Carmel Ridge Institute_

Deakins walked along the main hallway of the Carmel Ridge Institute beside Dr Shimo, his heart rate picking up the closer they got to Frances Goren's room. He had met Bobby's mother just once before, and that had been to deliver bad news as well. Then, it had been to tell her that her son had been shot, and she had not taken that news well at all. Though she hadn't suffered a full psychotic break, the episode she'd had had been bad enough that the staff had needed to sedate her.

Now, he was here to deliver bad news to her again. Before, he'd had been able to at least try to reassure her that Bobby would be fine, that the gunshot wound he'd suffered had not been serious. Now, he had no such luxury. He couldn't tell her that Bobby was going to be fine. That was something that he didn't know himself, let alone to be able to reassure anyone else of.

The truth was, he just didn't know what he was going to say.

As they walked, his phone conversation with Dr Shimo floated back to him. His greatest fear was that something terrible had happened, that Frances Goren had perhaps suffered a major psychotic break… or that she was perhaps even dead. But no, Dr Shimo had reassured him that neither scenario was the case.

Frances had worked herself into a highly stressed state over the lack of phone calls from her son, but she was neither was she at risk of having a breakdown over it. She needed to know what had happened to keep her son from calling her as he usually did, though, and according to Dr Shimo it had to come from him. When he'd asked why, Dr Shimo had told him simply that she would not believe the doctors. No, it had to come from someone that she recognised as an authority figure where her son was concerned. She would remember him, Dr Shimo had assured him, although in all truth, Deakins took little reassurance from that.

"Here we are," Dr Shimo announced unnecessarily as he came to a halt outside a half-open door. He offered Deakins an encouraging smile. "It's quite all right, Captain. She's been responding well to a new course of drugs, and she's been more stable and more lucid over the last few weeks than she has been for a long time."

Deakins looked at him questioningly.

"So Detective Goren had a good visit on Saturday?"

Dr Shimo nodded.

"Very good. More often than not, when he leaves here, Robert tends to look more than a little depressed. That wasn't the case on Saturday. He looked… positive. He was smiling at practically everyone. He even stopped to chat up one of our nurses."

Deakins smiled sadly.

"It must have been a good visit. But what do you think this news is going to do to her? I can't even say with any certainty that Goren is going to be fine. We don't know that!"

Shimo's smile faded.

"Right now, Captain, she's simply a mother who's worried about her son. Just keep that in mind, and everything will be fine."

With a reluctant nod, and willing himself to remain calm, Deakins walked into the room.

* * *

Deakins wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, but the warmly lit room took him by surprise. He paused just inside the doorway, his gaze going to the tall, thin woman who sat by the window, reading a book.

Frances Goren looked up, and small smile crossed her lips at the sight of Deakins.

"It's not Saturday, is it? I always have visitors on Saturday."

"No, it's not Saturday," Deakins answered as he ventured further into the room. "Mrs Goren, I don't expect you would remember me…"

"You have a familiar face," she mused. "You work with my son, Robert, don't you?"

"Yes, that's right," he confirmed. "My name is James Deakins. I'm Robert's captain."

A spark of recognition flashed in her eyes.

"Yes… I do remember you. The last time you were here it was to tell me that Robert had been hurt." She paused, uncertainty clouding her dark eyes. "Is that why you're here now? Is that why I haven't heard from Robert since his last visit? He calls me everyday, you know. Just like clockwork. He's such a good boy, but he puts himself down so much. He always had a low opinion of himself, even as a little boy. You mustn't let him put himself down, Captain Deakins."

Deakins was starting to feel sick. How the hell had he let himself get dragged in for this?

"Mrs Goren, something _has_ happened to Robert," he said quietly. "He's been hurt… Right now he's in the Intensive Care Wing of St Clare's Hospital."

There was a long silence as Frances digested that information.

"How?" she asked abruptly minutes later. Deakins blinked in surprise and confusion.

"I'm sorry…?"

"How was he hurt? Was he shot?"

"No, Ma'am," he answered, struggling to keep his voice from cracking. Despite the number of times he'd informed a family member that a loved one was injured… or dead… it never ever got any easier. "He was attacked, and very badly beaten."

Frances stared at him piercingly.

"My son was assaulted?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"And have the people who are responsible been arrested yet?"

"Two of the men responsible are in custody. There was a third, but I'm sure it won't be long before he's caught as well."

He watched her carefully for any hint that she might be losing her grip on reality, but there was no such indication in her demeanour.

"My Bobby would not miss calling me unless he physically could not do it," she announced abruptly. "Just how badly has he been hurt, Captain Deakins? And please don't play word games with me. I want the truth."

It was only with considerable effort that Deakins kept his voice steady as he answered her question honestly.

"Both of his hands were badly broken, and his eyes were burned."

He kept silent about the rape, and hoped to God that it didn't occur to her to ask. Frances clutched her book tightly to her chest.

"You're telling me that my little boy can't see, and that he can't use his hands."

"Yes, Mrs Goren," Deakins confirmed softly.

"Is the damage permanent?"

"We don't know yet. We hope not."

She was silent for nearly a minute while she contemplated that.

"And how is he?" she asked finally. "I assume that you've spent time with him? That you haven't left him to suffer alone?"

"Yes, I've spent time with him," Deakins assured her, quietly grateful that he could answer that affirmatively, at least. "I promise you that he hasn't been alone at all. In all truth, though, he's hurting a lot. He's trying hard not to let it show, but he is hurting."

"He's hurting," Frances murmured. "My little boy is hurting. Captain Deakins, would you please get Dr Shimo? I would like to speak with him."

Deakins nodded, puzzled but nevertheless obliging.

"Of course. I'll be right back."

He returned with the doctor a minute later.

"What can I do for you, Frances?" Dr Shimo asked. She regarded him almost placidly.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you would arrange for me to be able to visit my son."

Shimo did a double-take and looked across at Deakins, who could only stare at the elderly woman in astonishment. Of all the reactions he'd tried to anticipate, this calm request was not one of them.

"Mrs Goren," Dr Shimo started to say, "I really don't think that's…"

"Necessary?" Frances interrupted him quietly. "Is that what you were going to say? My son is in hospital, Dr Shimo. People hurt my little boy. They've hurt him badly, according to Captain Deakins. Now, if I know him as well as I hope I do, he's probably more concerned with my wellbeing than his own. Now please, don't stand there and take the high moral ground with me. My son is in hospital, and he needs his mother. End of argument."

Shimo let his breath out in a rush, and then looked again to Deakins.

"Captain Deakins, may I see you in the hall, please?"

* * *

"I'm sorry," Deakins apologised, feeling his face grow uncomfortably hot as he followed Shimo out into the hallway. "I didn't mean to cause a problem like this."

Shimo shook his head dismissively.

"It's all right, Captain. The truth is, this is the sort of response from her that I've been waiting to see."

"How do you mean?" Deakins asked, frowning.

"Even at her most lucid, in the past years, whenever anything has happened to either of her sons, her response has been… lukewarm, at best. She just hasn't cared. For her to _want_ to go and see Robert in hospital, and knowing what the situation is… Well, I have to say it's highly encouraging. And really, the time away from Carmel Ridge might do her a lot of good."

"I'm really not sure about this," Deakins argued. "The sight of her son… It could trigger another episode, couldn't it? And the last thing I want is for that to happen in Detective Goren's presence."

"Stresses and shocks that she hasn't had the chance to prepare herself for are the primary causes of her episodes and psychotic breaks, Captain Deakins. We have plenty of time to prepare her for this. You said over the phone about coming up with a solution that will benefit both mother and son. I think this might be that solution. And before you protest further, just hear me out. Frances speaks at great length with the nurses here, and during the times when she is lucid, the same subject always comes up."

"Her sons?" Deakins guessed, and Shimo nodded.

"Yes, her sons, but Robert in particular. Him, and her regret that he was the one who had to take care of her, rather than it being the other way around."

Deakins frowned as he began to see what Shimo was getting at.

"She might see this as an opportunity to be the care-giver for once."

"Right," Shimo confirmed. "And the fact that she is concerned enough to _want_ to be with Robert is the most positive sign I've seen yet. Now, can you look me in the eye and tell me that Robert wouldn't appreciate a visit from his mother?"

Deakins had to concede to that argument, but he still looked incredulously at Shimo.

"You really believe this could be manageable?"

A grin lit up Shimo's face.

"Absolutely."

* * *

Alex paused in flipping through one of the books that she'd pulled out at random. She'd read to him from _Moby Dick _for the better part of forty-five minutes or so before the slow and even sound of his breathing, and the way that his body relaxed completely against her, told her that he was asleep. Taking extra care not to wake him, she'd slid off the bed and put _Moby Dick_ aside, and searched through the bags for something to read. She'd finally settled on _The Hobbit_, an old favourite from her own childhood.

She was unable to concentrate on the story, though, and eventually put the book aside and returned her attention to her sleeping partner.

He actually looked fairly peaceful, she thought. He certainly seemed to be sleeping peacefully, with no apparent nightmares or disturbances. After the near disastrous visit from Benson and Stabler that morning, that fact that he _could_ sleep without disturbances was no small miracle. But then again, the visit from his fellow detectives and the unexpected gift of the books had lifted his spirits considerably, too.

Between that, and the news that Simon Matic had been apprehended, Bobby had seemed more at ease than she had seen him for a long while. Certainly, the distress and despair that she'd sensed in him over the last forty-eight hours had dimmed considerably.

He was still hurting badly, but the knowledge that he had that much-needed support from his colleagues after all seemed to have stemmed the tide of misery that had been steadily engulfing him.

She had feared that her gentle refusal of his request for a phone to call him mother might have sent him back into that spiral, but to her relief, it hadn't. He'd accepted that it was not the right time for him to be making any such call, and had instead taken what comfort could be afforded in the sound of her voice reading one of his most beloved stories to him.

Alex reached out tentatively towards his face, but stopped short of actually touching him. The last thing she wanted was to disturb him from his rest by inadvertently causing him pain – and the hard truth was that any physical contact to his face did just that. Her gaze went to his throat, and she winced at how swollen it appeared.

His doctor was concerned he was developing an infection, and had already started him on a course of powerful antibiotics. Her greatest concern was that should his throat become too severely inflamed, it would leave him unable to swallow and cold also create difficulties for him in breathing. That, in turn, could quite conceivably lead to them having to force a tube down his throat or, in a worst case scenario, result in the doctors having to perform a tracheotomy.

Alex thrust that worry from her mind. It wasn't going to come to that. After everything Bobby had been through, that would be beyond cruel.

Tentatively, not wanting to wake him but also fearful of what she might discover, Alex reached out and allowed her fingertips to brush gently over his forehead. She was relieved almost to the point of tears to find his skin was cool to the touch. He had no hint of a fever, which to her meant that the likelihood was low that the swelling in his throat was the result of an infection.

It was, simply, another grim result of the brutal beating that he'd endured. That was all, and that was more than enough.

She sat down again, but before she had the opportunity to even begin to relax, the door opened and Deakins entered.

Alex started up, her eyes widening with shock recognition at the sight of the elderly woman who was clinging to the captain's arm. Deakins flashed her a reassuring smile before speaking gently.

"Frances, this is Detective Alexandra Eames. She's Robert's partner. Detective Eames, I'd like to introduce Mrs Frances Goren, Robert's mother."

Alex made her way around the bed, and took the other woman's outstretched hand in what she hoped was not too firm a grip.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mrs Goren."

Frances smile softly, and Alex felt a bizarre sense of dejavu at how much she looked like her younger son at that very moment.

"And I you, Detective Eames. May I call you Alexandra?"

Alex nodded, deliberately not looking at Deakins, and the smirk that she knew was going to be on his face.

"Of course. That's fine."

Frances smiled warmly at her, and again Alex was reminded of Bobby in those rare moments when she was privileged to see his warmest and most genuine smiles.

"Alexandra… A beautiful name. Robert has told me so much about you, my dear. I've asked him time and again to bring you to meet me, but he keeps putting it off, Heaven only knows why. I'm glad I finally have the chance to thank you for taking such good care of him."

Alex found she had to bite on the insides of her cheeks to stem a sudden, fresh flood of tears. Frances reached over and patted her hand sympathetically.

"Dear, it's all right. You can't blame yourself for this. Any parents knows, you can't be there to save your child from everything that confronts them in life. I imagine it's not all that different for police officers and their partners. The important thing is that you're here now, and your captain tells me you've hardly left my boy's side."

"She hasn't," Deakins confirmed. "Only the once, and only because I had to practically order her home to get some rest."

Frances smiled warmly at her again.

"Well, there you are. Who could ask for a better friend?"

Patting Alex's hand one last time, Frances then made her way over to her son's bedside.

"How the hell did you pull this off?" Alex whispered as Deakins joined her at the end of the bed. He smiled wearily.

"It's a long story, and this will probably only be a once-off visit, so I hope he doesn't sleep through it. How long _has_ he been asleep?"

"About twenty minutes or so. I'd been reading to him for around forty-five minutes before that."

"So he really did like the books, then."

"Like them? Captain, he damned near cried. That's how much he appreciated them. But it wasn't exclusively the books, either. The gesture itself had a lot to do with it. He was really touched that they were willing to make an effort like that for him. He knows damn well that they wouldn't have gone to all that trouble purely out of guilt."

"They cared all along," Deakins murmured. "It was just unfortunate that it took them so long to get their priorities in order."

He trailed off, watching curiously as Frances leaned in to kiss her son's bruised cheek, and stroke his forehead soothingly. The contact drew Bobby slowly back into awareness, and a soft moan issued from his lips as consciousness crept up on him once more and, along with it, so too the pain.

"Alex," he mumbled, thinking the gentle, loving touch on his forehead was hers.

"No, sweetheart," a voice answered.

Bobby's breath caught in his throat. That couldn't possibly be who he thought it was. It just was not possible. Soft laughter met his disbelieving ears, and a faint whimper escaped his lips almost before he realised it.

"Mom…?"

"Yes, it's me," Frances confirmed softly. "My poor boy…"

A choked sob escaped him before he could stop it. Frances leaned in to kiss him again, this time on the forehead. Then, in an imitation of Alex earlier on, she sat herself up on the bed beside him and then, she gathered him gently to her in a protective embrace.

"It's going to be all right, my precious boy. Mommy's here."

Alex felt a slight tug on her arm, and looked up to find Deakins was urging her towards the door.

"C'mon, Alex," he murmured. "Let's wait outside."

Reluctantly, Alex conceded and allowed herself to be ushered from her partner's hospital room.

* * *

"How…?" Bobby asked softly as his mother cradled him to her. "I don't…. don't understand…"

"Your captain came to tell me that you'd been hurt, that you were in hospital. I couldn't just sit comfortably in my room knowing that my little boy was hurting. Dr Shimo kindly arranged for me to come and see you."

Bobby shuddered a little in her arms. All of a sudden he felt like the helpless, uncertain little boy that he thought had been long since buried by his subconscious.

"I wanted to call you," he whispered. "But I couldn't. My… my hands… I was scared. I didn't know how you'd… I mean, what you'd think."

"I know, sweetheart. You were worried about your poor mother. Well, it's time for you to stop worrying about me, Bobby. Look at you! Look at your hands… Your eyes…You can't worry about me now. You have to worry about yourself. Concentrate on getting better, darling. You have to stop thinking about anyone else, and put all your energies into getting better."

He shuddered again, and unconsciously nestled in against her, taking great comfort in the less than familiar sensation of having her arms wrapped around him.

"Your partner's a lovely girl," Frances said finally, and Bobby couldn't help but smile at his mother referring to Alex as a 'girl'. "She cares about you a lot."

Bobby didn't answer that comment. He hoped it was a simple, innocent remark, but he was terrified of saying or doing something that would trigger a new delusion. His mother had never liked any of the women he'd been involved with, and if she ceased to comprehend the difference between those fly-by-night relationships, and the relationship he shared with Alex, he dreaded to think what might result.

"It's all right, Bobby," Frances murmured to him. "Stop being so frightened. I'm all right. And don't forget, I'm your mother. I can tell you're not romantically involved with her. A mother knows these things."

He didn't question that. The truth was, he didn't want to know.

Slowly, Bobby began to relax, and simply appreciate and enjoy his mother's company, something that he had not been able to for a long, long time. She began humming softly, an old lullaby that he vaguely remembered from when he was only a very young child. A ghost of a smile passed across his lips as, for just a while, the pain – both physical and emotional – didn't seem quite so bad.

The minutes ticked by, and Bobby clung to his mother as best as he could. He knew full well it couldn't last. Even if she retained her clarity of mind, sooner or later it would be time for her to return to Carmel Ridge. And then, who knew when or if she would be able to come back? He held no illusions about the likelihood of his mother maintaining her current level of reason. Then, things would revert back to what they had always been. But for now… For now, he just wanted to pretend that everything was exactly as it should be, and that nothing would happen to change it.

"Where is your brother? He should be here as well."

Bobby tensed in her embrace. Of all the things she could have said, and the questions she could have asked, why in God's name did it have to be _that_?

"I… I don't know," he whispered. "I haven't heard from Richie for years."

She was silent and, for a while, he hoped she would let it slide. He should have known better.

"Well, I think he should be here."

"Mom, please…"

"No, Robert. He's your brother. He should be here to support you. It isn't right that he's not."

"I don't want him here," Bobby persisted, wanting desperately to get the subject off the piece of filth that was his older brother.

"Oh, I know that you two never really got along, but he's still your brother, Robert. I'm sure you have a contact number. Just let me have it, and I'll call him."

"No," Bobby said, his voice almost a moan. "Mom, please, let it go…"

Frances frowned as she looked down at her distressed son.

"Bobby? What is it? What's wrong? Why don't you want your brother to be here?"

Bobby pulled away, out of her embrace, his breath coming fast… too fast. He was descending rapidly into a panic attack that he didn't think he could stop.

"Please…" he whispered, barely able to make himself heard. "Please… Get Alex…"

She didn't move, though, watching in confusion as, in a strange reversal of roles, he slipped away from her as he became lost in his terrifying memories…

* * *

_He lay on the bed, trying to keep as still as possible. It wasn't all that hard to do. The pain from his injuries was just about more than he could cope with; his broken hands, his burned eyes, broken ribs… and he wasn't sure, but he thought maybe one or both of his legs might be broken. They certainly hurt badly enough that he suspected that was the case. _

_He knew by now that he wasn't going to escape this nightmare alive. The men… Matic, and whoever else was there… were going to kill him. He was slowly coming to accept that. All he could hope and pray now was that it would be over with sooner rather than later. As much as he valued the concept of fighting for life, right now all he wanted was an end to the pain._

_The bed creaked, and he felt someone move to kneel over the top of him. _

"_You think he's had enough yet?"_

_That was the voice of the man that he had yet to identify. The voice was infuriatingly familiar, but in his current state, he simply couldn't place it. The thought was lost as a hand descended onto his back and skimmed over his bruised and lacerated flesh before coming to a stop on his buttocks. _

_No… he thought miserably. Not again…_

_He grunted in pain, the only protest he could manage, as his attacker drew apart his buttocks, found his bruised and bloodied opening, and rammed himself in as hard and fast as he could. Laughter met his ears, cruel and unforgiving. Silently, he begged God for relief from the torture, and the terror, but there was none. _

_He sobbed wretchedly as he was raped yet again, both of his attackers laughing at his obvious agony._

"_Hope you two are leaving some for me."_

_Bobby's entire body went ice cold at the new voice. No… Please God no… Abruptly, the brutal feeling of forced penetration was gone, and his current abuser slid off the bed._

"_He's all yours, pal."_

"_And you're definitely going to kill him, right?"_

"_Relax, man. He's not going to live to see another sunrise. Do what you gotta do, and then let us take care of business. We'll wait in the other room. Just come out when you're done with him."_

_Bobby listened in breathless terror to the sound of his original two tormentors leaving the room. Then, the mattress creaked and dipped as someone sat down on the bed beside him._

"_Hey, little brother. Bet you're wishing you'd come up with the money now, huh?"_

_Bobby moaned in despair. Richie…_

_The other man laughed softly, cruelly. _

"_I couldn't let you die without knowing who organised this little party… or why. Basically, Bobby, you screwed me over, so I decided I'd return the favour."_

_Bobby moaned again. Richie hesitated, then spoke softly._

"_I'll take the gag out, but if you scream, or yell, or anything, I swear I'll give you a whole new definition of pain. And believe me, after four years in prison, I can come through on that promise. Do you understand me?"_

_Somehow, Bobby managed to nod. _

"_Good," Richie murmured. He reached over and pulled the gag from his brother's mouth, and pulled out the piece of material that had been jammed into his mouth. _

"_Why?" Bobby whispered. Richie shouldn't have worried about him yelling out, he thought dismally. He could barely whisper, let alone shout._

_Richie was silent, considering that carefully before answering._

"_You fucked up my life, Bobby. All I wanted was for you to agree to testify for me, and you wouldn't do it. I would've gotten a suspended sentence if you'd testified. You know I would have. But instead, I got four years in Rikers."_

"_Wasn't enough," Bobby mumbled. _

_Richie frowned. He reached over and grabbed a fistful of Bobby's hair, pulling his head up roughly from the bed. _

"_I suggest you shut the fuck up, little brother. You're not in a position to be making smart ass comments."_

_He let Bobby's head drop again, and went on quietly._

"_I bet you can imagine what happened to me in prison. Only, it was even worse for me, because of my name. It didn't take the other inmates long to figure out that I was related to you. And they all wanted payback. Figured that if they couldn't get back at you, they'd settle for me instead. I got ass-fucked every goddamn night in that place for the first three months. I got beaten up every damn day. And I lost count of the death threats. You know they eventually had to put me into the protective wing of the prison? No, of course you don't know. You didn't give a fuck, did you? You didn't give a fuck that your big brother was getting beaten up and ass-fucked in prison."_

"_That wasn't… wasn't my fault," Bobby whispered weakly. "You… put your… yourself there…"_

"_I did the crime," Richie agreed. "I admit that. But it's all on you that I went to prison for it. I didn't have to, Bobby. You royally fucked me, little brother. So like I said, I decided I'd return the favour. The only difference? You're not going to live through this."_

_Richie slid off the bed, and then he shoved the wad of material back into Bobby's mouth, even as Bobby tried to protest. _

"_Shut up, you piece of shit," Richie snarled, balling up his fist and punching Bobby hard in the jaw. _

_Bobby groaned, feeling at least one of his teeth come loose from the force of the blow, and could not put up a fight when Richie retied the gag. He pushed his face down into the mattress, bracing himself for the return of his tormentors. A moment later, though, he heard Richie laughing softly._

"_You think I'm going to get Simon and Chops back? No, little brother. Not before I have some fun as well."_

_Bobby went rigid in the bed. Chops…? Richard Chops Cozza…?_

_He had no further chance to mull on that. The belt that his tormentors had used to whip him with earlier suddenly snapped across his back, and a muffled scream of pain tore from his gagged lips. Richie laughed in delight, and drew the belt back and hit Bobby again with it, putting more strength behind the second blow. _

_By the time Richie abandoned the belt, Bobby had been reduced to low, weak moans of pain. _

"_Now **that** was satisfying," Richie said with a chuckle. "You probably don't really give a shit, but I'm not going to rape you. I may be a fucking bastard, but I'm not that sadistic. That, and I can't afford to risk leaving behind my DNA. There is, however, something to be said for inanimate objects when it comes to inflicting maximum pain. Ever had a nice, thick piece of metal shoved up your ass, Bobby? I have. And I just couldn't live with myself, knowing you died without getting to experience it, too…"_

_

* * *

_

"Bobby! Goddamn it, Bobby, _snap out of it!_"

Bobby jerked back to reality with a violent start, his breath catching painfully in his chest and throat. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Deakins' voice cut through the haze of his memories, and brought him back to the present.

"Mom…" he whispered, suddenly sure that she'd been whisked away while he'd been lost in his memories. A hand came down on his shoulder, and another cupped his cheek gently.

"I'm right here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

A strangled sob escaped him, and he began to cry openly, wretchedly. Frances gathered her son to her, and looked back at Deakins with a hard look on her otherwise seemingly fragile features.

"My other son, Richard, was responsible for this. Did you already know that?"

Deakins felt sick, but answered honestly.

"We knew he was involved. We didn't know to what extent."

Frances started to return her attention to Bobby, but her gaze went to Alex. The detective was standing back with obvious reluctance, clearly wanting to involve herself, but at the same time not wanting to intrude. Smiling a little, Frances urged Alex over, and the younger woman hurried over, not needing to be asked twice.

Together, the two women surrounded, comforted and protected the distraught man who was such an important part of both of their lives.

* * *

_tbc..._


	16. Ultimate Betrayal

A/N: Warning for adult content

* * *

"Time to go?" Dr Shimo asked as Deakins came back out of the room. He smiled wryly.

"Not yet, Doctor. Give her some more time, please?"

"What happened?"

"Bobby suffered some sort of panic attack, I think. He's come out of it now, but I don't think it would be too beneficial to him, or to Frances, if we were to pull her out of there right now."

Shimo was silent for a long minute as he stared thoughtfully at the door of the detective's room.

"All right," he conceded finally. "We'll give them a while longer."

Deakins nodded in appreciation.

"Thankyou. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a phone call that I have to make."

* * *

_SVU Headquarters_

Elliot, Olivia, Fin and Munch all looked up, caught by surprise, as Cragen strode into the task room, where they were going over the available evidence collected from Bobby's apartment.

"Captain?" Olivia asked tentatively. "Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly," Cragen answered tightly. "Elliot, Fin, both of you get your asses over to St Clare's as quick as you can. I just spoke to Jim Deakins on the phone. It looks like Goren has not only remembered that Richard Cozza was the second assailant, but that his brother was a lot more directly involved than we all thought."

"His brother aided directly in the assault?" Munch asked, and Cragen nodded.

"It's looking like it. Get over there quickly, while you still have a chance of getting a reasonably lucid statement from him."

Neither Elliot nor Fin hesitated. They grabbed their coats and were gone. Olivia looked up at Cragen worriedly.

"Did Captain Deakins say whether Richie raped Bobby?"

"He didn't specify, but it looks like Richie had a hand in the physical assault, at the very least. I want you two to contact Casey Novak and tell her what the latest is. As soon as Elliot's finished talking to Goren, I want the two of you to get out to Rikers with Casey, and talk to Richard Goren."

"What for?" Munch argued. "We've got evidence, and we've got Matic's statement dropping Richie right in it."

Cragen shot Munch a threatening look.

"Humour me. Wait for Elliot to finish talking with Goren, and then get out to Rikers. Just see what you can get out of the slimy bastard."

Olivia and Munch glanced at one another, and then both nodded in acquiescence.

"Okay," Olivia conceded. Cragen looked relieved.

"Thankyou."

* * *

_Nearly half an hour later_

Slowly, Bobby emerged from the shell of his misery, his sobs easing and finally fading altogether. He had no idea for how long he'd lost in his own distress, but he suspected it had been a while. Slowly, he became aware of two pairs of arms holding him, and that his head was being held gently to someone's bosom. Not Alex, he guessed, feeling his cheeks flush hotly at the mere thought. Which meant it had to be…

"Mom?" he whispered. A hand gently stroked his head.

"I'm right here, sweetheart. So is Alexandra."

Bobby shifted a little, and finally became consciously aware of Alex on his other side, helping Frances to cradle him gently.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, feeling his embarrassment levels rocket as the realisation struck that he'd just suffered an almost complete emotional breakdown in the presence of the two women who meant the most to him in his whole, miserable life.

"Don't you dare apologise," Alex told him firmly, heatedly. "Don't you apologise at all, Bobby."

He shuddered, and realised dimly that he had no inclination to argue with her.

"Cozza…" he whispered. "Richard Cozza… Chops… The other man, Alex… It was Cozza."

"You remember now?" Alex asked softly.

"Yeah. Richie… Richie identified him. He called them both by name. I already recognised Matic… But Richie identified Cozza. I recognised his voice after that. And Richie…"

"I'm sorry, Bobby," Frances said softly, her voice starting to sound strained and grief-stricken. "I never imagined Richie could turn on you like he has. And to think I favoured him once… My poor little boy…"

"S'okay, Mom," Bobby said, struggling to put some measure of strength and reassurance back into his voice. "It wasn't your fault…"

Frances snorted scornfully.

"It's not for you to be reassuring me, Robert. You shouldn't contradict me. You always contradict me."

Bobby stiffened slightly, and Alex felt a twinge of concern go through her at the subtle change in Frances's voice. A moment later, Bobby relaxed against her again, and spoke in a soft, almost subservient tone.

"I'm sorry, Mom. You're right."

"Of course I'm right. You don't give your mother enough credit. You never do."

On the other side of the bed, Alex slipped carefully off onto the floor. Instinct warned her that it was time to put an end to the visit, before things took a turn for the worst. Walking quietly around, she slipped out of the room to find not only Deakins and Dr Shimo waiting there, but Elliot Stabler and Fin Tutuola as well.

"Alex?" Deakins asked, sensing a potential problem.

"Call it female intuition or whatever you like," Alex said quietly, "but I think it's time to take her home."

Dr Shimo nodded in understanding.

"To be honest, I'm surprised she's managed this long. Captain Deakins, if you could assist me? I'd like to manage this as smoothly as possible."

Deakins nodded, and looked to Elliot.

"Detective Stabler, would you come in with us, please?"

Elliot nodded in acquiescence, glancing briefly at Alex before following the captain and the doctor into the room.

"Mrs Goren," Deakins said calmly, walking around to the other side of the bed. "I'm very sorry, but there is a detective here who needs to speak to your son."

Frances was silent for several seconds, her grip tightening noticeably on Bobby, who stiffened a little in response. Finally, though, her expression relaxed visibly.

"It's time to go, isn't it?"

Deakins nodded, smiling reassuringly at her.

"Yes, it is. But I don't want you to worry. I promise Bobby won't be left alone. I'll make sure of it myself."

Frances nodded passively.

"Thankyou, Captain Deakins." She returned her attention to Bobby, and leaned down to kiss him lightly on the forehead. "I'll be back tomorrow, sweetheart. Oh, I almost forgot. Captain Deakins, the bag I brought with me…"

Deakins nodded and picked up a carry bag that Frances had brought from Carmel Ridge, handing to her. Frances fished inside and pulled out two items, a book and a handkerchief. She laid both items gently on her son's lap.

"This is for when those bandages come off, sweetheart," she said of the book, "and the handkerchief has some of my perfume on it. When it starts to hurt too much, you just hold on to these. All right?"

Bobby sighed very softly.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

Frances smiled sadly.

"I love you too, my dearest boy."

She leaned in to give him a last kiss and hug, before finally allowing Dr Shimo to escort her from the room.

Bobby lay in silence, his bandaged hands resting lightly on the book and the handkerchief. He waited patiently until the sound of footsteps had faded completely, and then spoke softly, sadly.

"She won't be able to come back."

It wasn't a question. Deakins answered quietly, without hesitation.

"No, probably not."

"You organised it, didn't you?" Bobby asked.

"With Dr Shimo, yes," Deakins confirmed. "I spoke to him over the phone, and he told me that Frances was making herself sick with worry about you. I went to Carmel Ridge intending to just talk to her, and tell her why you couldn't call her, but then she asked to come here, to see you. I talked about it with Dr Shimo, and he thought it was worth taking the chance… for both your sakes."

Bobby sighed softly, touched by the lengths Deakins had gone to not only for him, but also for his mother.

"Thankyou, sir. It… It meant a lot."

Deakins watched him thoughtfully for a long moment.

"Are you all right?"

Bobby turned his face away, as though he could somehow hide the pain that was all too visible on his bruised face. Damn, he was seriously starting to hate being asked that.

"No," he answered simply, honestly. His response was no surprise to Deakins. Just quietly, the captain was relieved that Bobby had been honest in his answer.

"Bobby, Elliot Stabler is here. Are you feeling up to talking to him?"

Bobby shifted in the bed. He wasn't sure how much he was feeling like talking, but it was all the more important considering the new memories that had just surfaced.

"I can talk," he mumbled, hoping he sounded more positive than he felt. Deakins looked over at Elliot, who nodded encouragingly at the captain.

"Alex and I will be right outside," Deakins reassured Bobby, and then quietly exited the room. Elliot waited until the door had closed completely, then walked over to the bedside.

"That was your mom, huh?"

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled.

"You're lucky, it's easy to see she loves you a lot."

Bobby didn't respond to that, but felt his throat tighten almost painfully at Elliot's understanding words. Instead, he asked a question of Elliot.

"Is Olivia outside?"

"No, she's working with Munch at the moment. Fin's waiting out there with Alex and Deakins. It's just us two, pal, like you wanted. Are you ready to talk again?" Elliot asked carefully.

_No_… Bobby thought miserably.

"I guess."

"Okay. Let me start the recorder, and then we can get started."

Bobby listened silently to the distinct click of the recorder being switched on, and Elliot's voice intoning that it was an interview with Detective Robert Goren, interview conducted by Detective Elliot Stabler, followed by the date and the time.

"Okay," Elliot said quietly. "Whenever you're ready, Bobby."

Bobby answered Elliot's invitation with silence. If Elliot was waiting until _he _was ready, they were going to be waiting a damned long time. A moment passed, and then Elliot spoke again, his voice laced with wry humour.

"Sorry. That was a dumb thing to say, wasn't it? Okay… How about we start from where we left it last? What happened after your eyes were burned?"

Bobby drew in a ragged breath. He had never, in his worst nightmares, imagined it could be this hard to make a statement, even taking into account the horrendous nature of what had happened to him. He could barely sort it all out in his own mind, let alone put it into words for Elliot's tape. What he did know, though, was that he had to try.

"The belt," Bobby said suddenly as a fresh, grim memory came back to him, triggered in its turn by the memories of his brother's involvement. "After they burned my eyes… they whipped my back with a belt. They took it in turns… When one got tired, the other one took over. It just kept going… but I never passed out. I wanted to by then. I wanted to just go to sleep… but I couldn't."

Elliot grimaced a little, recalling the sight of Bobby where he had been found chained and cuffed to his own bed. His back had been one big open wound, covered in thick welts and lacerations, and bleeding profusely. Quietly, Elliot suspected that Bobby had to be on an enormous dosage of painkillers. Otherwise, lying on his back as he was would have been unbearable for him.

"When they finished with the belt," Bobby said, straining to keep his voice at an audible level for the recorder, "one of them left the room. When he came back… they covered my back with salt."

Elliot winced, unable to help it. He had worked with victims before who had suffered through all manner of nightmarish experiences, but he never ceased to be horrified by new tales of torture. Using salt on his back at that point seemed to Elliot to be the height of cruelty. And yet, he knew there was still so much more to come.

"I… I can't…" Bobby choked out abruptly. "I can't talk about everything. Not… Not now. Not yet…"

His miserable plea didn't especially surprise Elliot. It was something that he was well prepared for.

"It's okay, Bobby. I don't expect you to be able to talk about everything that happened, not in one go. But how about you try to talk about the things that you feel are important for us to know?"

Bobby contemplated that, and as he did so his breathing slowly evened out and his stress levels dropped considerably. Yes, he thought he could do that.

"They both raped me," he admitted hoarsely. "I don't know how many times. I… I wasn't exactly keeping count. They took turns raping me, and then they beat into me some more. It felt like hours. Maybe it was… I don't know. I couldn't keep track of the time."

Elliot didn't speak, but he suspected that Bobby probably wasn't far off in his estimates. The alternating between been raped and being beaten probably _had_ gone on for some hours.

"And… and then Richie came back."

Elliot hesitated, then stepped closer to the bed. This corroborated the statement that Simon Matic had given in Olivia and Munch's presence. The question was, how much did Bobby actually remember? He kept silent, not daring to say a word for fear it would later be suggested that he had led Bobby with his questions. Bobby gave a short, bitter laugh.

"For all I know… Richie never actually left. He came into the bedroom… He said he hoped they were leaving some for him. They said I was all his… Then Richie… he said…"

"What did he say, Bobby?" Elliot asked quietly. Bobby drew in a ragged breath.

"He said… 'you're definitely going to kill him, right?'. That's what he said. Then, they left the room… Left me alone with Richie. Richie… said some things…"

"I need you be a bit more specific, Bobby," Elliot interrupted gently. "What did he say to you?"

Bobby wished he could do something other than simply lie there, but he didn't even have the option of gripping the bed covers with his hands. All he could do was talk, and he hated it with every fibre of his being. Even so, he found himself opening up to Elliot and, over the next twenty minutes he described everything Richie had said to him. Elliot listened intently, feeling his stomach churn unpleasantly as the grim story was told in an unsteady voice.

"Did he carry through on that threat?" Elliot asked when Bobby fell silent after telling about Richie's ominous threat about the piece of metal. Bobby was silent, his head turned away. Elliot felt his stomach roll again as he read the horrific truth in Bobby's silence.

"It's okay, Bobby. You don't have to tell me that until you're ready. In fact, I think we can leave it there. You've done really…"

"Yes."

Elliot faltered, staring at Bobby in momentary confusion that rapidly made way for a dismayed understanding.

"Yes…?" he echoed, wondering whether Bobby had it in him to actually come out and put it into a cohesive statement.

"He went through with it," Bobby said almost tonelessly. Elliot felt a slight twinge of concern at the lack of emotion in Bobby's voice, but opted to stay silent. Bobby went on slowly. "After he said that… about the piece of metal… He knelt behind me on the bed… He… Richie pushed the poker… The same thing they'd burned my eyes with… He pushed it into my… my anus… He raped me with the poker. My own brother raped me… with a metal poker…"

Bobby's voice broke, and he began to sob softly. Elliot stood limply, shaken to the core by what he'd just listened to. As one of his colleagues had said, they had seen people perpetrate all sorts of shocking acts upon members of their own family, but he never failed to be horrified anew by it.

One thing was certain, though. When Casey Novak heard this latest recording, Elliot was certain she would take it straight to Arthur Branch and tell him she was going to demand the death penalty for Richard Goren. Elliot couldn't help wonder whether Bobby would still be willing to testify against Richie, knowing that could be a possible outcome… His stomach lurched again unpleasantly. Would Bobby be willing to testify at all…?

Shaking himself back to reality, Elliot returned his attention to Bobby. They would face that issue later. Now was not the time to be pressing for those sorts of answers. Mumbling quickly into the tape to put an end to the interview, Elliot switched off the recorder and spoke gently to Bobby.

"Do you want me to bring Alex back in here?"

Bobby didn't answer, though, lost in the muddy waters of his own desolation. Elliot hesitated for just a moment, and then reached out and laid a hand gently on Bobby's shoulder.

The response was immediate, and violent. In a panic-driven burst of strength, Bobby lashed out at Elliot, swinging his bandaged left hand around and connecting his forearm solidly with Elliot's face. The detective tried too late to duck out of the way, and he went over backwards with a loud crash, his back grazing hard against the chair by the wall as he went down. He was still sitting on the floor, his face smarting and his back throbbing, when the door swung open and Deakins ran in, followed quickly by Fin and Alex. Fin went immediately to his side, while Deakins and Alex moved to see to Bobby. The injured detective lay stiffly in the bed, his breath coming in rapid gasps as he struggled to stave off the panic attack.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Alex demanded, glaring at Elliot as Fin helped him up. Elliot swallowed the urge to snap back at her, and instead made his way back over to the bed.

"I'm sorry, Bobby," he apologised quietly. "I shouldn't have tried to touch you. That was a stupid thing to do."

Slowly, Bobby's breathing began to even out again as the panic and fear subsided.

"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. "I didn't mean… I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Elliot smiled crookedly.

"Nah. I can take it. And I probably deserved it, anyway."

"No," Bobby argued, distressed. "I… I shouldn't have…"

"Hey, don't worry about it," Elliot insisted. "I'm not. It's okay."

Bobby sighed softly, and finally relaxed. Elliot spoke again, acutely aware of the way his stomach was rolling ominously and knowing he had to get out of there quickly before he really was sick.

"We'll leave it there for now, okay, Bobby? I'll come and talk to you again when you're feeling more up to it."

Bobby nodded once.

"Thanks, Elliot. And… tell Olivia… I'm sorry she got stuck with Munch."

Elliot smirked, then snorted with ill-suppressed laughter. Despite his distress, a small smile found its way onto Bobby's face in response to Elliot's amusement.

"Don't you worry about that, either," Elliot said with a chuckle. "She'll cope. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Avoiding looking at either Deakins or Alex, Elliot stepped around the bed and hurried from the room, with Fin on his tail. After a moment's consideration, Deakins quickly followed them.

* * *

"Detective Stabler?"

Elliot slowed to a halt halfway down the corridor, cursing softly under his breath. Ignoring the puzzled look he was getting from Fin, Elliot turned slowly to face the Major Case captain.

"What is it, sir? We need to get back to SVU…"

Deakins stared at Fin piercingly.

"What did Bobby tell you?"

Elliot answered the question with silence. Impatience and annoyance flashed in Deakins' eyes.

"Detective, don't force me to put in another call to your captain."

Elliot bristled at the not-so-subtle threat.

"Captain Deakins, this is our case. Bobby might be your best detective, but you can't keep butting into the case like this. You have to let us do our job! And we can't do it properly if you keep trying to interfere!"

Deakins stood frozen for several seconds before suddenly relaxing and offering Elliot an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Detective Stabler. I understand your point of view, and I don't mean to be interfering with your methods… but I'm concerned for Bobby. If I understand the situation correctly, then his brother is a lot more directly involved than we thought. If that's true, then I can't imagine the damage it's going to do to Bobby. I'm asking you what he told you not because I'm trying to follow your every move. I want to know so I can be prepared to give Bobby the help that he's going to need to recover from this."

Elliot glanced at Fin, who gave the slightest of nods. Finally, he sighed and motioned Deakins into an empty room, closing the door behind them.

"Captain Deakins, Richie didn't _just_ aid and abet in the lead-up to the assault. He orchestrated the entire thing."

Even as Fin and Elliot watched, Deakins turned a sickening shade of grey.

"He… _He_ planned it? Not the other two?"

"That's right," Elliot confirmed. "He planned it, and he recruited the two men to commit the assault."

"He took part as well, didn't he?" Deakins asked hoarsely. Again, Elliot nodded.

"Yes, he did. He beat Bobby with a belt…"

"And?" Deakins pressed, sensing there was more.

"Captain, do you really want to hear this?" Elliot asked wearily.

"Whether I want to, and whether I need to are two completely different things," Deakins answered grimly. "Please, just tell me."

"Okay," Elliot conceded grimly. "Richie violated Bobby with the metal poker."

Deakins felt as though he'd just been sucker-punched in the gut. All the air left him, and he was left staring at Elliot in numb horror.

"He… raped him with…"

"A metal fireplace poker," Elliot confirmed grimly. "And, he stated a clear threat to kill. He told Bobby that he wasn't going to live through it. Sir, when our ADA hears this tape, she's going to ask Arthur Branch to give the go ahead to push for the death penalty. It was a carefully planned attack, and Bobby wasn't meant to survive. At the very least, Richard Goren is going to be charged with the violent assault and attempted murder of a police officer."

Slowly, Deakins recovered his lost composure, and he responded with a single nod.

"So be it. If that's what's going to happen, then I won't protest… and I have a feeling that neither will Bobby. Thankyou for your honesty, Detective. Excuse me, I'd better get back."

Stepping past the two SVU detectives, Deakins headed out and back to Bobby's room. Fin watched him go, and then looked back to Elliot, who was leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut.

"His own brother… Shit, that's lousy."

Elliot pushed slowly away from the wall. He wondered if he looked as crappy as he was feeling right then.

"Wait till you hear the tape."

Fin raised an eyebrow as Elliot walked past him back out into the corridor.

"It's really that bad, huh?"

"Yeah," Elliot muttered, and kept walking. "It's that bad."

Fin shook his head and was about to speak again when his cell phone rang. Pausing in the corridor just outside the ICU wing, Fin pulled out his cell and answered the call.

"Fin. …Yes, sir, Elliot's finished. We were just coming back now… Uh, I don't know. I'll have to ask. Hang on… Elliot, did Bobby name Cozza as the second guy?"

Elliot nodded, looking increasingly more puzzled. "Yeah, I've got it all on the tape. He was really specific."

Fin returned his attention to the phone call. "Yes, he says he did. …What? What the hell have they got to do with any of this…? You're shitting me… Okay, we're coming back now."

"What is it?" Elliot asked as they started walking again. "Or don't I want to know?"

"You probably don't want to know," Fin growled. "You remember Richie Goren said something about Cozza cutting a deal with the Feds to testify against members of the Masucci family in exchange for getting out of prison? Well, guess who's just turned up back at SVU."

Elliot slowed to a halt.

"You have got to be kidding! The Feds are there?"

"And apparently they're not happy that we're chasing after their witness."

"Shit," Elliot hissed. "This is all we need."

"We've gotta get back there, Elliot," Fin pressed, and Elliot nodded in acquiescence, launching into a brisk trot.

"I'll tell you something, Fin. I don't give a fuck who Cozza promised to testify against. He's going down for what he did to Bobby. He's not going to worm his way out of it."

* * *

Deakins walked in to find Alex still standing by Bobby's bedside, watching him with tears on her face. He glanced concernedly at Alex, then returned his attention to Bobby.

"Bobby? You still with us, pal?"

Bobby drew in a shuddering breath.

"My brother… He wanted me dead… He wanted Matic and Cozza to kill me…"

"But they didn't," Deakins murmured. "You're still here, and now you have the power to put all three of them where they belong, in prison for the rest of their lives."

Bobby considered that for a long moment before speaking in a trembling voice.

"Is that what their ADA is going to ask for? Life in prison?"

"I expect so," Deakins answered carefully. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"My brother wanted me dead," Bobby said again. "He'd been planning it for a long time… If he goes to prison with a life sentence, a lawyer could get it reduced."

"Bobby, if he's sentenced to life, then that's what he'll serve," Alex said. "He won't get out of this, not for what he's done to you."

Bobby was silent for a moment.

"As long as I testify."

"I think that's a pretty important factor," Deakins agreed quietly. "Why? Are you reluctant to testify against him?"

A tired sigh escaped Bobby's lips.

"No. I know I'm going to have to. I don't want to think about that yet. It just… It hurts."

Alex and Deakins exchanged sad looks across the bed. That had to be the biggest understatement either of them had heard yet. Deakins started to reach for Bobby's arm, but stopped short of actually touching him. After a moment's consideration, he withdrew his hand.

"It's always going to hurt, Bobby, knowing that Richie did this to you. But given time, the hurt will get easier to cope with. And don't forget that we're here to support you. You've got us, and you've got your cousin. Whatever happens, that's not going to change."

Not true, Bobby thought miserably. Everything had changed, and right at that moment he couldn't see any way out of the darkness that he felt like he was drowning in.

* * *

_tbc..._


	17. Slippage

_A/N: Thanks to Angelfirenze for her suggestions. She helped in a big way to formulate this chapter (though in hindsight, she may regret it).

* * *

_

SVU Headquarters

Elliot and Fin arrived back to find Munch and Olivia hovering outside Cragen's office. The shouting coming from inside was heated enough to keep any of the four from simply barging in.

"How long has this been going on for?" Fin wondered.

"At least twenty minutes," Munch answered. "Arrogant bastard just stalked while Liv and I were in with Cragen, and demanded we quit looking for Cozza. Cragen hit the roof, booted us out to wait for you guys, and it's been a dogfight and a half since."

Elliot looked around at his three colleagues, even as he reached for the doorknob.

"Shall we crash the party?"

Olivia nodded in agreement.

"Let's do it."

* * *

"Just in time," Cragen growled as they walked in. "People, this is Agent Charlton of the FBI. He's one of the lead agents with the team responsible for Mr Cozza being released from prison, and then allowing him to escape custody."

Charlton bristled at the deliberate jibe.

"We didn't allow anything…"

"So what you're saying is that you just straight out lost the guy?" Munch asked. Charlton glared at all of them.

"The situation with Mr Cozza is not your concern. He's our business, and our responsibility. That's all you need to know."

"Like hell it's not our business!" Olivia exploded. "Captain, did you tell this prick what his precious witness did?"

"You have no evidence to prove he was involved in the assault on Detective Goren," Charlton said dismissively, but at the same time the detectives though he was starting to look a touch unsettled. Cragen gave a short, derisive laugh.

"That's where you're wrong, Agent Charlton. We have DNA evidence that places Cozza in Detective Goren's apartment."

"And we have a statement from Detective Goren himself, naming Cozza as one of his attackers," Elliot added fiercely.

Charlton was silent as he took a moment to contemplate that.

"Be that as it may," he said finally, "we can't allow you to interfere with our pending indictments by pursuing our witness."

"A witness that is currently hiding from everyone," Cragen pointed out, "including _you_. Open your eyes, Charlton. Do you really believe Cozza ever had any intention of testifying for you?"

"That is a Federal matter…"

"And what reality are you living in, that you seem to think he's going to just come walking through your door at the snap of your fingers?" Fin demanded.

"Captain Cragen," Charlton said heatedly, "I suggest you reign in your detectives. They're out of line."

Cragen was unapologetic, though, either for his attitude or those of his detectives. A fellow cop had been brutalised, and damn near killed. He was damned if he'd kowtow to this slimy piece of shit.

"Like me, they're concerned that a violent offender is out on the streets, and that the FBI seems intent on protecting him, to the detriment of a good cop!"

Charlton pressed his lips tightly together in visible irritation before speaking again.

"I'm sorry about Detective Goren. I really am, but hanging our witness out to dry is not going to do anything towards repairing the damage that's already been done. Surely Goren would understand that the importance of reacquiring Mr Cozza to testify for us now outweighs whatever minimal comfort he might get through you people arresting Cozza…"

"You son of a bitch," Cragen cut in angrily. "Don't you dare talk about Goren like he's a second class citizen. And just why the hell didn't you know what Cozza was planning? Didn't you have him under surveillance while he was in Rikers?"

Charlton answered that with silence, and Cragen's mouth fell open.

"You did know… You goddamned fucking piece of shit!"

"Yes, we had a surveillance on Cozza," Charlton snapped. "And yes, we were aware of conversations that Cozza had with his cellmates, where threats were made against Detective Goren…"

"And you didn't bother sending so much as a warning his way when you sprang Cozza from prison?" Olivia asked in disgust.

"We had to weigh up the morals of warning Detective Goren and the Major Case Squad against the indictments we hope to get with Cozza's help. One of the stipulations made by Cozza in exchange for his testimony was that we not alert Goren to his release. He was afraid of harassment from the detective." Charlton paused, and then shrugged. "In the end, it was decided that the threats being made against Goren were insubstantial… and that even if they turned out to be otherwise, our case was far too important to jeopardise for the life of any one man."

In the next instant, all hell broke loose as Elliot lunged towards Charlton in a rage. His momentum was halted only by Fin and Munch, who grabbed his arms and held him back. Charlton leapt backwards, startled, and toppled over the chair that was right behind him. His head struck the cabinet as he went down, making an ugly cracking sound that sent a surge of satisfaction through Cragen and his four detectives.

"Goddamn it, Captain, if you can't control your detectives…" Charlton snarled angrily. He looked up as Cragen came around to stand over him, and held a hand out to him. Charlton accepted it, and Cragen hauled him to his feet. An instant later, Charlton found him slammed against the wall by Cragen, the captain's face suddenly merely inches from his own and positively seething with fury.

Nearby, Elliot abruptly ceased his struggles against Fin and Munch, and all four detectives stared in dumb shock at their captain's unexpected display of aggression.

"Now you listen to me, you slimy, arrogant little bastard," Cragen hissed. "The man you're referring to so offhandedly just happens one of the best detectives this police force has. Right now, he's lying in a hospital bed, facing the prospect that he might be crippled for life, and that his career as a cop could be over. He's lying in that bed, suffering pain the likes of which you probably couldn't imagined if you tried. And it's a situation that could have been avoided! So don't you _dare_ stand here and talk about him like he's just a piece of collateral damage."

The tiniest of smirks formed on Charlton's face.

"But Captain… That's _exactly_ what he is."

Rage flared in Cragen's eyes and, before he could think twice about what he was doing, he punched Charlton hard in the jaw, sending the man crashing into the metal cabinet for a second time.

"Get the fuck out of my office, and get out of this building, before I can think of a reason to arrest you!" Cragen bellowed. Charlton scrambled to his feet and stumbled past Elliot, Olivia, Fin and Munch, then looked back at Cragen angrily.

"Forget about Cozza. That's the last time I'll warn you. He's our witness, and we aren't giving him up."

"You've got to find him first," Cragen snapped. Charlton stood frozen, he and Cragen facing off for a long minute before Charlton finally dropped his gaze, wheeled around and stalked out of the office.

"You hit him…" Elliot said, astounded. Cragen sank back into his seat, still glowering with anger.

"Yes, Detective, I did. And I don't regret it for an instant."

"Please tell us we're not going to just sit back and let Cozza disappear into the Federal system?" Olivia pleaded.

"I have no intention of sitting back and letting anything of the sort happen," Cragen confirmed, much to the relief of the four detectives. "Cozza is still missing. Until they actually have him in their custody, the son of a bitch is fair game. So get out there, and find him before the Feds do."

They turned to leave, but Fin turned back in the doorway of Cragen's office.

"Sir, I read Cozza's file. He's street-smart, he'll have contacts with their feelers out. If he thinks we're trying to nail him before the Feds get to him…"

"You're thinking he'll just turn himself over to the Feds?" Cragen suggested.

"Worse," Munch chimed in grimly. "He might try going after Goren again, and _then_ he'll turn himself in to the Feds. A dead victim would delay our case big time, and he'd know that. He'll also know the Feds will bundle him away nice and safe where we can't touch him."

"That could be his plan anyway," Elliot said tersely. Cragen nodded his agreement.

"Point taken. The four of you, get over to the hospital, set yourselves up to stake-out the place, and _do not leave_. And Olivia, you're back with Elliot as of right now. Contact all the precincts within St Clare's zone, and make sure they're on the watch for this mutt."

With a nod, they were gone to carry out their instructions. Cragen was just reaching for his phone to make a call when the door swung open again and Casey Novak strode in.

"We just had a pleasant visit from a Federal agent," Cragen said ruefully, glancing up at her only briefly. "Got the 'Cozza's a Federal witness, leave him alone' speech."

"And what did you say tell him?" Casey asked. "Or don't I want to know?"

Cragen looked up, then, and couldn't hide the smirk that curled his lips ever so slightly.

"I hit him."

"Oh… Oh, that's just fantastic."

"He called Goren collateral damage, Casey. The Feds knew Cozza was making plans in prison to go after Goren, and they kept it under wraps because they didn't want to screw up their precious indictments. So yes, I hit the bastard, and I make no apologies for it."

Casey sighed softly.

"Well, you're not going to like what I have to tell you now."

Cragen sat forward slowly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"What?"

"I just spoke to Richie Goren's lawyer. He's been admitted to the psych wing of Rikers. Apparently he suffered a major psychotic break earlier today."

"Psychotic break?" he echoed tensely. "As in…"

"Schizophrenia," Casey confirmed. "We still have to confirm it at our end, but the prison psychiatrist has made a tentative diagnosis of severe paranoid schizophrenia."

"You can't be serious!" Cragen burst out. "The guy is… what… forty-eight years old?"

"Forty-nine," Casey corrected grimly as she handed a thin sheaf of papers across the desk to Cragen. "It isn't a sudden onset, Captain. The psychiatrist who made the diagnosis said in his report that Richie has probably had the illness since his early twenties… a functioning, undiagnosed schizophrenic."

"You're going to accept this?" Cragen asked as he flipped through the report.

"I'll organise for Dr Huang to conduct his own diagnosis, but I think you're going to find it's all legit. From all I was told by the psychiatrist at Rikers, he's suffered a separation from reality. The bottom line is…"

"I know," Cragen said softly. "He'll never see the inside of a courtroom."

Casey sank down into one of the empty chairs.

"She's already preparing papers to file for a change of plea, to not guilty by reason of mental deficiency. If the diagnosis is solid, I won't be able to fight it."

Cragen buried his face in the palms of his hands, and moaned softly.

"So we've got one perp that the FBI is trying to snatch away from us, and another who's literally just lost his grip on reality. And all we're left with is Simon Matic, and he's getting a plea bargain for his cooperation."

"That's not as bad as it sounds," Casey objected. "He's still facing a life sentence. The only thing his plea bargain gets him is the guarantee that we'll keep the death penalty off the negotiating table."

"Yeah, well, it's still not going to sound good when I take it to Goren."

"I'll come with you for that," Casey said quietly. Cragen grunted.

"Damn straight you will. I'll need a witness to keep Jim Deakins _and_ Alex Eames from flaying me alive. We promised them… and we promised Goren… that we'd make sure that whoever attacked him wouldn't get away with it. And yet, it looks like that's exactly what's going to happen."

"I'll talk to Arthur Branch about petitioning to keep the FBI from getting their hands on Cozza," Casey murmured. "I can't guarantee it'll work, but I'll try. It would help if you could find him before they do. If they get hold of him first, it won't matter whether we get an injunction or not. Cozza will disappear into the woodwork, and we'll never have a chance to so much as lay a single charge."

"I've got my people working on it," Cragen assured her.

"That's where they were headed? I passed them coming in here, and I don't think any of them even saw me, they were so focused on what they were doing."

"I've sent them to stake out the hospital where Goren is," Cragen explained. Casey raised an eyebrow slightly.

"You think Cozza's going to go after Detective Goren again?"

"Yes, I think he will. And he'll be counting on the Feds for protection."

"If you think he'll go after Detective Goren in the hospital," Casey said tentatively, "then the FBI will have thought of that, too. They'll have people there, waiting for Cozza to show his face. Even if your detectives get to him first, there's no way they'll get him back here without the Feds muscling in on them."

Cragen smiled grimly.

"Just leave that to my people to worry about, Ms Novak."

* * *

_Later that evening_

Danny arrived back at the hospital, refreshed from nearly twelve hours of much-needed sleep. He passed through the reception, on his way up to ICU, and was just waiting at the lifts when he heard his name being called. Turning, he quickly located the owner of the voice, and a warm smile lit up his face.

"Alex, hi. What's happening?" Danny asked. He eyed in amusement the large take-away coffee cup she clutched, and she shrugged lopsidedly.

"I just went out for coffee, and something to eat," she answered as she joined him in waiting for the lift. "I promised Bobby I'd bring him back some decent coffee. His doctor was okay with it, though I think she'd prefer we try and get some solid food into him."

"You mean peanut butter and jelly sandwiches don't count?" Danny asked, and Alex couldn't hold back a smile. He chuckled softly.

"You're pretty when you smile, you know that?"

Alex threw him a mock frown.

"Watch it, pal. You're married."

Danny laughed again.

"Relax, I'm not trying to be a dirty old man. All I meant was that since I arrived here, I think I can count on one hand how many times I've seen you smile. Don't get me wrong, I know there's not a hell of a lot to smile at right now, but we've got to take what we can get. Anyway, you're young enough to be my daughter. No offence, kid, but that's kind of a gross thought."

Alex grinned widely, even though she tried damned hard to look put out.

"I've taken men down for less than that."

"Mm, I don't doubt it."

She laughed, then, and favoured him with a grateful smile. "Bobby's lucky to have you for a cousin."

"Alex, my dear, I think we're the lucky ones, to have a guy like Bobby Goren in both our lives."

Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks before she could stop them. Annoyed and embarrassed, she stepped forward and thumped the 'up' button on the wall.

"Damn it, what's taking these lifts so long?"

A moment later, an arm slipped around her shoulders and gave her a fierce hug. She stiffened momentarily, then relaxed and gave into the affectionate contact.

"It's okay," Danny reassured her, releasing her after a moment. "I feel exactly the same way."

The lift doors finally slid open, and both of them stepped in at the same time. The doors were just sliding closed when a third figure ducked through.

"Logan," Alex exclaimed, not sure whether to be surprised or annoyed. She decided to err on the side of surprise. Logan threw both of them a slightly sheepish grin.

"Hey, Eames. Uh… Sorry…"

"Danny," the taller man reintroduced himself. Logan nodded, and accepted the offered hand in a quick shake.

"Mike. I thought I'm come by and see Bobby… If that's okay. I'm sorry I didn't come by yesterday, but my captain had me working late."

Alex frowned up at him.

"I'm surprised you have the nerve to show your face."

Logan blinked at her, confused.

"Uh… what…?"

"You promised me," she burst out, thumping him hard on the chest and causing him to stumble against the wall of the lift. "You promised you'd stay with Bobby until I came back, and when I _do_ get back, I find you're gone, and there's someone there that I don't know!"

"Hey, I'm sorry," Logan protested. "But it didn't seem like Bobby really wanted me around after his cousin here arrived."

Alex stood there stiffly, glowering at him for a long moment before nodding curtly and backing away from him.

"Okay. Apology accepted."

Logan gaped at her for several seconds before he finally caught sight of the grin that was tugging at the corners of Danny's mouth. His features relaxed into a smile as he finally understood what was going on.

"Cruel, Eames. Very cruel. I thought you really were pissed at me."

"Who's to say I'm not?" she retorted, but the grin that forced its way onto her face told another story.

"So, I can come up and not get torn to shreds?" Logan asked. Alex nodded.

"Bobby will be happy to have you there. Right now, I think he's happy to have anyone there, no matter who it is."

Logan's smile faded as he sensed the underlying meaning in Alex's words.

"Depression?"

She nodded. "I think so. He was already suffering the beginnings of depression before now, but it set in fully pretty much from the moment that his mother had to go back to Carmel Ridge."

"His… I'm sorry, did you just say 'his mother'?" Danny cut in, startled. Alex nodded, and quickly explained about the brief visit from Frances Goren. She carefully avoided saying anything about the disturbing revelations that had been made about Richie's involvement in the attack.

"Holy shit," Logan muttered. "No wonder he's depressed. Probably won't get to see his mom again for who knows how long…"

He trailed off abruptly, the unfortunate choice of words out of his mouth before he could stop them. He looked quickly from Alex to Danny, but neither seemed to have noticed the slip, much to his relief.

"I'm glad your captain could organise it, though," Danny murmured as they headed into the ICU wing. "Bobby's mom means everything to him. It should have helped a lot to have her wanting to be there with him."

"I guess," Alex muttered, her thoughts reluctantly going to the dramatic response from Bobby that his mother's presence had brought on. Logan frowned a little, sensing there was something more than what she was saying.

"What is it, Eames?"

She shook her head wordlessly. She didn't want to be talking about that, not the least because it was not her place to be telling either man that Bobby had been brutally sodomised by his own brother.

Grateful to finally reach her partner's room, she rounded the corner, only to be brought to an abrupt halt by the sight of the empty bed.

For several seconds, Alex stood frozen, teetering on the verge of panic as her gaze took in the empty bed, freshly made up with clean sheets and blankets. A moment later, a familiar face stepped into her line of sight, and an authoritative voice spoke firmly.

"Alex, calm down. He's fine. They've just taken him for some scans," Deakins told her, reaching out to grasp her shoulders in an effort to get her attention. Slowly, the panic subsided, and her vision focused on him.

"Scans?" she echoed hoarsely. Deakins nodded, smiling reassuringly at her.

"That's right. Just scans. He's okay."

Alex let her breath out in a rush, and her body relaxed with visible relief.

"I'm sorry. I saw the empty bed, and I just… I thought…"

Deakins nodded in understanding.

"I know. It's why I stayed here to wait for you to get back. I didn't want you thinking something had gone wrong."

"Scans for what?" Danny asked as he walked in behind Alex, with Logan following close behind him.

"Scans on his eyes," Deakins explained, and sensed Alex stiffen up once more. "They've found a plastic surgeon who's willing to operate to open up his eyes, but they want some idea of what's going on underneath his eyelids before they go ahead with it."

"Open up his eyes?" Logan echoed, and Deakins elaborated.

"His eyes were burned shut, Logan. They were literally sealed closed. It was never going to be a case of taking off the bandages and voila, he can see again. But they want to get some idea of whether there is any damage to his actual eyes, or if it is only surface damage, like they're hoping."

"I hope it's good news," Danny muttered, sinking into one of the spare chairs. Deakins nodded.

"So do we all."

* * *

Half an hour later found the four of them still waiting, mostly in silence, and hoping for the best. As Deakins had reminded them, Bobby's doctor had strongly believed that the harm done to Bobby's eyes was minimal, and that his chances of being able to see again were good, once his eyes were opened via surgery.

Nevertheless, the wait was an anxious one. It was approaching the forty-five minute mark when Deakins suddenly spoke, his thoughtful gaze focused on Alex.

"Alex, tell me something. How do you think you manage partnering Logan on a temporary basis?"

Alex's head snapped up so fast that Deakins wondered that she didn't give herself whiplash. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Logan was staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Excuse me?" Alex growled, her expression turning downright dangerous. "What do you mean, partner Logan? I already have a partner, _Captain_."

"Uh, maybe I'd better take a walk," Danny suggested quickly, even as he started to get up. Logan glanced at him ruefully.

"You'd better stay. She might not commit homicide with a civilian present."

Danny grimaced, but sank reluctantly back into his seat. Deakins, for his part, was oblivious to the brief exchange between Logan and Danny, and he didn't flinch in the face of Alex's hostility. He was well prepared for it, knowing full well she was going to react angrily to any suggestion of Bobby being replaced – even if that wasn't what he actually meant.

"I think you missed the key word in that question, Alex," Deakins said quietly. "I said 'temporary'. What it comes down to is that much as I'd like to, I can't afford to let you stay here at the hospital with Bobby indefinitely. Once we have a good idea of the long term outcome for him… which I expect will be some degree of rehab, followed by a gradual return to work… I'm going to need you back on deck. Now, because I can't let you work on your own, what I'm asking you is would you be willing to work with Logan temporarily, until Bobby is fit to return to work?"

Alex looked uncertainly at Logan, who was still staring strangely at Deakins. She thought she would be able to, but would Logan be willing to substitute for Bobby? Or, would he resent the idea of being a fill-in?

"Before I answer, maybe you'd better ask Logan if he even wants to come over to Major Case," Alex suggested. When Logan finally looked across at her, as though surprised that he was even being brought into consideration, she rallied with a half-hearted smirk. "After all, I'm sure there's so much you'd miss on Staten Island."

Deakins swallowed the desire to grin, and saw Logan was doing much the same.

"How about it, Logan?" he asked the detective. "How would you like to escape Staten Island for a while?"

Logan grunted. "Well, if you put it like that… Tell me, though, have you really thought about it, or was it one of those 'lightning bolt out of the blue' ideas?"

Deakins didn't answer, he only smiled faintly.

"Okay…" Logan muttered under his breath as he realised he wasn't going to get an answer. He tossed the idea over in his head for a moment. Though he honestly didn't really see himself fitting in with the elite Major Case Squad, there were enough positives in the idea to make it worth considering.

Firstly, it could serve as a launching pad to get the hell off Staten Island, and perhaps back into Homicide. Secondly, he was being handed a golden opportunity to work with a detective that he both liked and respected… even if her opinion of him wasn't quite so high.

"Okay," he said again, aloud. "I'm good with it if Eames is. But it's only until Goren is ready to go back to work."

Alex nodded with reluctant agreement when Deakins looked to her questioningly. As little as she liked it, she knew Deakins was right. She couldn't stay away from work indefinitely, and at least Deakins had had the good grace not to suggest pairing her up with any of the current Major Case detectives who were operating without partners. Despite their collective peace offering, the truth was she was still feeling sour towards most of them for their earlier treatment of her partner.

After a moment's thought, she'd come to the conclusion that she could work with Logan, at least on a temporary basis.

"I have one condition, though," Logan added quickly. Deakins' eyebrows shot up.

"And what might that be, Logan?"

"That we run it by Goren first, and if he reacts badly, then I don't do it."

Deakins stared at Logan incredulously. Of all the things he had expected Logan might say, that was not one of them. A glance at Alex, though, told him Logan had just hit the diplomatic jackpot. Alex had visibly relaxed, and was looking at Logan with new respect and gratitude.

"All right, then," Deakins agreed, quietly relieved that the suggestion had been accepted with a minimal amount of disruption. "We'll put it to Bobby first and foremost, and if he's agreeable to it, then I'll get it organised. And Logan, if this works out, I might look seriously at making you a permanent addition to the Squad."

Neither Deakins nor Alex missed the hopeful gleam that lit up Logan's eyes, not so much at the idea of permanently joining Major Case but rather at the thought of finally getting away from Staten Island for good.

"Uh, people…?" Danny spoke up tentatively. "I think they're bringing him back."

All eyes turned to the doorway just as an orderly came through, guiding a hospital gurney on which Bobby was being carefully transported. Fresh bandages adorned his face, replacing the ones that had been cut away in order to do the necessary scans.

"How did it go?" Deakins asked.

"Don't ask me," Bobby answered, sounding more than a little annoyed. "They won't tell me."

Deakins looked around at Dr Craig, who had come in behind the gurney and was supervising the orderlies as they manoeuvred Bobby back into his freshly made bed.

"Doctor…?"

Dr Craig nodded in understanding.

"Captain Deakins, could I speak to you outside, please? You, too, Mr Cooper."

Deakins and Danny exchanged wary glances, and then followed Dr Craig from the room.

"You have no idea at all what that's about?" Alex wondered. Bobby gave a very slight shake of his head.

"Not a clue. She wouldn't tell me. Acted like I was a goddamn ten year old."

Logan gave a derisive snort.

"That's a hell of a stretch of the imagination."

Bobby fell momentarily silent at the unexpected voice.

"Logan…?"

"Yeah, pal, it's me. Sorry I didn't come by yesterday, like I said I would. My captain wouldn't let me go early enough, and you've got a night duty nurse out there who makes Attila the Hun look like a kitten."

"S'okay," Bobby murmured. "Thanks for coming now."

Logan and Alex both fell silent, looking at each other uncertainly and wondering whether they ought to wait for Deakins, or just go ahead and talk to Bobby about what they had discussed earlier with Deakins. In the end, Bobby took the choice out of their hands.

"What is it?"

Both Logan and Alex started in surprise at the question.

"What's what?" Logan asked, wincing at how guilty he sounded to his own ears.

"Don't," Bobby said softly. "Please don't pretend nothing's the matter. I don't have to be able to see to sense the tension in here. What's going on?"

Alex sighed softly. "Bobby, Deakins ran something past me and Logan just before you got back. Sooner or later I'm going to have to go back to work… He, uh…"

"He wants to bring me over from Staten Island to work with Alex," Logan said quietly. "It's only temporary, until you're back at work, but if you don't like it, just say so. We don't want to do anything that's going to give you more grief. Deakins agreed."

Bobby answered the statement with silence. For more than a minute he remained cloaked in silence, and the only indication he was even still awake was the barely visible twitch of the one finger that protruded from the thick bandages on his right hand. Finally, just when Alex was about to try speaking to him, Bobby responded first.

"It's a good idea. You… You two will work well together."

Far from feeling relief, Alex felt her stomach roll unpleasantly.

"Bobby," she said tentatively, "it's not meant to be a permanent arrangement. You're still my partner. I'm just waiting for you to be ready to come back to work. I know it'll take time, but you'll get there. I believe you will. Please don't give up. Not now."

She reached out cautiously to brush the back of her hand gently against his cheek, and was relieved when he turned in towards her touch, rather than jerk away from her.

"Not giving up," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, and holding a telltale tremble. "It's just…"

"What?" Alex pressed gently. Bobby swallowed hard, then winced at the pain it caused him.

"Nearly every time I've woken up in here, you've been right here next to me," he answered finally. "I was just trying to imagine waking up, and there being no one here at all. I… I never thought that would scare me… but it does."

"You won't be alone, pal," Logan reassured him quietly. "We'll make sure of that. We'll make sure there's always someone here."

"Thanks," Bobby whispered, "but you can't promise that, Logan. Neither can you, Alex. It… It's okay, though. I'll be okay."

Alex looked unconvinced, and Logan didn't blame her. He didn't believe Bobby's words either, but before either had the chance to argue further, Deakins walked back into the room. Danny was right behind him.

"Well?" Alex asked, the volume of her voice rising slightly as the stress started to take hold. Deakins gave her a worried glance, and then walked over to the bedside to speak to the injured detective. The news concerned all of them, but Bobby had the right to be told directly what was happening with his own body.

"Bobby, the scans came back clear. There's no damage at all to your eyes. Once the surgeon operates to repair the damage to your eyelids, and reopens them, there should be no reason why you can't see. You're not going to lose your sight, Bobby."

A muffled sob of relief escaped Alex, and Deakins heard Logan mumble something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a Catholic prayer to the Madonna. Bobby, however, answered the news with silence. After a moment, Deakins decided to elaborate.

"It's going to take some time before your eyes will be a hundred percent again, and you'll need to wear sunglasses a lot of the time, both indoors and outside, but it's going to heal. Do you understand, Bobby? You haven't been blinded. It's going to be okay."

To Deakins quiet concern, Bobby merely slid down in the bed and rolled away from them, onto his left side.

"Bobby, you okay, bud?" Danny asked, feeling a sharp twinge of concern. Again, there was no answer. Alex reached out to him again, intending to lay her hand on his shoulder. This time, instead of turning into her touch, Bobby jerked away in a painfully obvious, panicked reaction. Alex withdrew her hand quickly, hurt and more than a little frightened.

"Can you all give us a few minutes, please?" Deakins asked quietly. Danny hesitated, looking quizzically at Deakins before nodding and heading silently out of the room. When Alex hesitated, Logan took a firm grip on her shoulders, and guided her out, pushing the door shut behind him. Deakins stared at Bobby's inert form for a long moment, before walking around to the other side of the bed.

"Bobby, I want you to listen to me," Deakins told him quietly. "I know you probably aren't going to answer me, but I want you to listen. Firstly, I'm sorry. I should have organised counselling for you as soon as you were even halfway lucid. Secondly, I'm not going to try and guess what's going through your mind right now. I doubt I could ever imagine. I just want you to remember this. We're not quitting on you, Bobby. No matter how far you think you've fallen, we're still going to be here to pull you back up. You just have to be willing to let us do that for you. Don't be afraid to ask for help, ever, because one of us will always be here to give it. I can promise you that much and you know I don't make promises that I can't keep. Don't be afraid to lean on us now, Bobby. Let us help you."

Though Bobby never spoke, a noticeable tremor passed through his body. Deakins hesitated, then reached out and laid his hand gently on Bobby's arm. The detective flinched slightly at the contact, but did not try to pull away.

"You'll get through this eventually," Deakins assured him gently. "I know you will. I believe you will. Just… don't stop wanting to live."

Deakins hesitated for just a moment longer before finally withdrawing his hand and silently leaving the room.

* * *

Bobby lay still and silent, listening as Deakins' footsteps echoed dully on the linoleum floor. It was only when he heard the door open, and then quietly swing closed again that he finally let go, and cried softly into his pillow.

* * *

_tbc..._


	18. Gaining Ground

A/N: It's official. Either I or my muse are sadistic. I just don't know which yet. But I promise, things will get better soon. I hope.

* * *

"Well?" Alex demanded when Deakins slipped quietly out of the room. Her voice was slightly higher-pitched than normal. She was bordering on a panic attack herself, by all appearances, Deakins mused ruefully. He sighed softly, and leant back against the wall.

"He's hurting, plain and simple. I should have had a counsellor ready to go almost straight away, but I let myself think there was plenty of time. Now, it's become urgent."

"It shouldn't be any surprise that he's reacting like this," Logan murmured. "Look at everything that's happened, everything that he's remembering."

"Logan's right," Deakins agreed. "We're going to have to start showing him a hell of a lot of patience. I think we're just starting to come into the seriously rough waters now."

Alex shut her eyes against the tears. "I hope SVU take their time building the case against Richie, because if Bobby has to testify against the son of a bitch any time soon, it might just kill him."

Deakins started to agree, but stopped before he could say a word, his gaze going down the corridor.

"Don...?"

They all looked around to see Don Cragen approaching, with Casey Novak beside him. Deakins moved forward to meet them, a guarded look on his tired face.

"If you're here to speak to Bobby, you're wasting your time. He isn't up to it."

Cragen and Casey exchanged grim glances. Neither one was looking forward to this, but it had to be done. "We're not here to talk to Goren, Jim. We need to talk to you. Privately, if you don't mind."

Immediately, the guarded look became a suspicious one. "About what?"

"Please, Jim, not here," Cragen pleaded. For several long seconds, Deakins said and did nothing. Then, finally, he turned wordlessly and led the way down the corridor. With a grim glance in Logan, Alex and Danny's direction, Cragen and Casey followed.

"Now what the fuck is that all about?" Logan muttered.

"We'll find out soon enough," Alex murmured. "C'mon. Let's go back in."

Logan, however, caught her by the shoulder, stopping her. When she looked back at him in confusion, he shook his head slowly.

"How about we give him a chance to regroup, Alex?"

She looked torn, but finally conceded, albeit extremely reluctantly.

"Why don't we go get some coffee?" Danny suggested. "I'll tell Bobby what we're doing. We won't be gone long."

Again, Alex nodded reluctantly, and Danny slipped quietly back into the room. He reappeared less than a minute later, looking more than slightly shaken.

"Is he okay?" Alex asked, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice. Danny hesitated for just a split second before answering.

"He just needs a little bit of time to himself… as Mike said, to regroup. I spoke to him, but I don't think he even realised I was there. Maybe when we come back, he'll have had a chance to recover, and be a little more receptive to his surroundings. C'mon. Let's go get that coffee."

* * *

Deakins led Cragen and Casey into a small, private waiting lounge at the far end of the corridor.

"What's going on?" he asked tensely. "Don...?"

"There are a couple of things," Cragen answered, "and you're not going to like either one. Goren's going to have to be told, as well, but you need to know first. The first is that the Feds are looking for Richard Cozza. They're the ones who got him out of prison, after he agreed to testify for them against members of the Masucci family."

"And we weren't notified?" Deakins asked incredulously. "Apparently one of the stipulations made by Cozza was that Goren not be told."

Deakins' face went from pale to deep red in the space of just a few seconds as anger took hold.

"Goddamn it! Cozza made a threat against Bobby at his trial, when Bobby testified! They had a responsibility to come to us! Those sons of bitches..."

"They want him back," Cragen said quietly. "They don't want us 'messing' with their witness. According to them, Goren was just collateral damage."

"And you're going to let them have him?" Deakins asked angrily. Cragen smiled grimly.

"I never said that, did I? If they do get him, it won't be because we didn't put up a fight. I've got Stabler, Benson, Tutuola and Munch all out on the streets, searching for Cozza. I can't guarantee that we'll get to him first, but we're going to damn well try. And if we do manage to get to him before the Feds, I promise you that we won't be letting him go without a fight."

Deakins nodded slowly in reluctant acceptance.

"I appreciate your people's efforts, Don. It might not seem like it at the moment, but I do. It's just, this whole situation."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Jim," Cragen reassured him. "Goren's one of your detectives. I wouldn't expect anything less."

A tired sigh escaped Deakins' lips.

"It's more than just that, Don. I don't just feel responsible for Bobby as his captain… It's hard to explain, but every other detective in my squad has family to fall back on for support. Bobby doesn't have that. His mother is institutionalised, and his brother… Basically, the only family he has is his cousin, who lives in Washington DC, his friend Lewis, Alex Eames..."

"And you?" Cragen queried. Deakins nodded.

"Yes. We joke with each other about how our detectives are like our own children, but that's truer with Bobby than I ever realised."

Cragen contemplated that in silence for nearly a minute before speaking again. He hadn't planned on telling Deakins about what the FBI knew of the plan to go after Bobby, but in light of what Deakins had just said…

"Jim, there's something else," Cragen said tentatively, and Deakins stared at him with wordless trepidation. Cragen went on quietly, dreading Deakins' reaction to what he had to tell him. "The Feds… they knew what Cozza, Matic and Richie Goren were planning. They had surveillance on them while they were still in prison. They knew, and they decided not to do anything about it."

Deakins sank into the nearest chair, his face turning ashen once more. "I can't tell Bobby that," he said hoarsely. "That would kill him. He's confused and angry enough now as it is, that so many people could have done something to help him, but didn't. To be told that the FBI knew about it in advance, and did nothing… He won't be able to cope with that."

"He doesn't have to be told that until you think it's appropriate," Casey told him. "While he's in hospital, at least, it's a non-issue. And as far as him finding out any of this at the trial… well, that may be a non-issue, as well."

Deakins looked up at her slowly. "What do you mean? You offered Matic and Richie a plea bargain?"

"Matic took a plea bargain in return for dropping Richie and Cozza in it," Cragen admitted, remaining admirably stoic in the face of the visible anger on Deakins' face. "Now, before you hit the roof, Jim, just hear us out. Matic is going away for life. He's never going to see daylight outside prison walls again. The plea bargain he took was solely to keep the death penalty off the table. I promise you that miserable son of a bitch is going to die in prison."

"All right," Deakins conceded quietly, though he looked less than appeased. "What about Bobby's brother? What did you offer him?"

"Initially, we offered him a dual charge of conspiracy before the fact for the assault and attempted murder," Casey explained, "which would have put him back in Rikers for ten to fifteen years. But then Matic made a full statement, and I promise you that I yanked that deal out from under him so fast it made his head spin."

"But…?" Deakins pressed, sensing something more. Casey looked grim. "Richard Goren suffered a major psychotic break just a few hours ago. The prison psychiatrist has made a tentative diagnosis of severe paranoid schizophrenia."

"No…" Deakins moaned softly. "God, no… He'll never go to trial, then"

"No," Casey agreed quietly. "More than likely not. We'll send our own psychiatrist out to Rikers to make his own diagnosis, but from what the prison shrink had to say, I believe it's genuine. After that, I'll meet with Richie's lawyer and we'll negotiate incarceration at a suitable institute."

"This is going to do more damage than any of the news about Cozza or Matic," Deakins said softly.

"I honestly don't know how he's going to react to it."

"You don't have to be the one to tell him, Jim," Cragen said. Deakins gave a short, bitter laugh.

"The hell I don't. No, Don, I don't want news like that coming from anyone else. I'll tell him, when I think it's the right time. Just… do me a favour, and don't talk to anyone else about it, unless you absolutely have to."

Cragen nodded, happy to comply.

"We'll keep it under wraps for now, Jim, I give you my word."

Deakins sighed softly. "Thankyou."

* * *

Bobby was barely aware when Danny came back in and told him that he, Alex and Mike were going to get coffee. He had still been struggling to get a grip on his misery when Danny spoke, and by the time it registered in his mind that they were going off for a while and leaving him alone, it was too late. Before he had a chance to get out a single word, to plead for at least one of them to stay with him, they were gone.

Now, he was alone, with only the silence for company. It was almost more than he could take.  
He cursed himself silently, angrily, for jerking away from Alex like he had, even though he logically knew that it was a reflexive action that he couldn't help. She had to know that too, didn't she? Know that it wasn't a deliberate act on his part to push her away from him? He prayed that she did understand, although the less rational side of his mind said otherwise. After all, if he hadn't jerked away from her, then surely she would still have been there with him. Wouldn't she?

He himself didn't really understand why he had pulled away from her. She had touched him similarly only minutes before, and he hadn't reacted badly. He couldn't understand what had changed so fast within himself that he panicked so completely at her touch.

All he could think of was that it was more of an instinctive than a consciously thought out action. Sure, he knew all about the 'pathology' of the rape victim – the isolation, the aversion to physical contact, the despair and depression… But living it was so completely different to reading about it… or, even seeing it in others. Dimly, he wondered whether this was even remotely how Maggie Coulter had felt after being released from Simon Matic's clutches, and he found himself filled anew with respect and admiration for her incredible courage.

Another miserable sob escaped him. He didn't even understand why he was feeling so completely desolate. After all, the news about his eyes had been good. His eyes would heal, his vision would be restored, and he was one small step closer to being able to reclaim his life. That was good… wasn't it?

_Oh yeah,_ a tiny voice whispered mockingly from somewhere deep within his soul. _Really good news. You'll be able to see with your own eyes the damage that those bastards did, to your body and your home. And maybe, if you're really lucky, if you ask really nicely, they might even let you look at the crime scene photos. Because you know you don't have a home to go back to anymore…_

Bobby gave a choked sob as he tried to force that vicious little voice out of his conscious mind. It didn't matter, though. Thoughts of what little he had left to go home to… if anything at all… had preyed on his mind ever since Alex had told him the news about his beloved books.

His books…

Bobby felt yet another sob rising in his throat, and forced it back down. He didn't know whose idea it would have been to burn all of his books, but that hurt as much, if not more than being violated so brutally. As he had told Alex, some of those books had been gifts from his mother and, in his mind, were irreplaceable. Now, all he had left to cling to was the one book that she had brought for him.

Conscious of the fact that there was no one there to help, Bobby carefully leaned his body forward, reaching out with his bandaged hands until they came into contact with the small mobile table, and the single book which sat on it. Shuddering at the fiery pain that the movement caused him, Bobby closed his hands over the hardcover, and dragged it slowly back towards him. Of course, he couldn't read it for himself, but he suddenly craved having something to cling to. Anything at all, and right then, the book was his only option.

It was heavy, though – heavier than he'd anticipated. Pain speared through his hands as he tried to lift it, and he cried out involuntarily as the book slipped from his weakened grasp and fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He fell back against the raised section of the bed in misery and frustration, only to cry out again at the fiery pain that ignited in his back. He shifted onto his side as much as he was able, and cried soft, shuddering sobs, clutching his bandaged hands to his battered body while he waited for the pain to subside to a tolerable level.

Gradually it did, and then his thoughts turned to the book, which now lay on the floor, beyond his reach. He dared not lean over to try and grab it, firstly because there was the very real danger he could lose his very tenuous sense of balance and fall right out of the bed, and secondly because with his hands being the way they were, doing so was beyond his capabilities. He slumped down in the bed, feeling even worse than he had before, if that were even possible. He had never felt so utterly helpless before in his life. To be so reliant on others was something that went completely against his nature, and he just didn't know what was worse; having his independence stripped right away from him, or accepting his current state, but then having to cope when he was left alone like this.

He had no way of knowing when… or if Alex was coming back. For all he knew, he'd hurt her so much that she'd decided she wasn't coming back. The stark fear of abandonment was ever present in his mind, he thought miserably.

Yes, he knew his fears were illogical, but knowing that did nothing to keep them in check. And he was frightened. He was frightened of being alone, and right now, that was precisely what he was – alone. In his tired, dejected state of mind, he was alone in every possible sense, and he hated it with every fibre of his being. He had never, in his entire life, imagined he could crave company as much as he did right then.

Abruptly, a new sound registered in his ears, the sound of light, tentative footsteps on the floor, just inside the room. Bobby fell quiet, listening intently and trying to determine who his new visitor was. Female, judging by the lightness of the step, but it couldn't be Alex. She would have identified herself to him. And it wouldn't have been Olivia. By what he could glean from Elliot's words earlier, Olivia had more or less been banned from coming anywhere near him. So what females did he know who would want to come and see him? To his private embarrassment, he couldn't think of a single one. Except…

"Nicole…" he whispered, his adrenalin levels sky-rocketing as the panic hit. His whispered exclamation was met with silence. Then, he heard soft rustling as someone bent over just near the bed. A moment later, the book was laid gently on his lap.

"It… It's Maggie, Detective Goren," a soft, female voice said. "Maggie Coulter."

Bobby's breath escaped him in a rush as relief mixed with surprise crashed over him. Of all the people he hadn't expected, Maggie Coulter was probably right up there at the top of the list.  
Slowly, as the shock of his initial fears receded, he closed his hands carefully over the precious book, and felt some semblance of calm settle over him once more.

"Thankyou," he mumbled, feeling awkward, and marginally embarrassed.

"My… My mom talked to your captain," Maggie went on tentatively. "He told her that you were… were… attacked by the same man who… who..."

She trailed off uncertainly. Bobby said nothing, at a loss for words. So often in his life, he had always known exactly what to say. Right then, though, at that moment, he didn't have a clue what to say. Maggie went on softly, hoping fervently that she hadn't made a mistake in coming.

"I wanted to see you… after Mom told me what happened. I… I didn't know if I could help you like you helped me… but I thought it… um… it might..."

She faltered, acutely and uncomfortably aware of the absolute silence from the man in the hospital bed. Her cheeks burned red as she took his silence as a rebuff.

"I… I'll go," she mumbled, mentally kicking herself for thinking at all that he might have appreciated her coming.

"Please, don't go."

Maggie froze, even as she turned back towards the door. He'd spoken so softly that for a brief moment she wasn't sure whether she'd heard right. To emphasize his words, Bobby lifted his right hand weakly off the bed, reaching out tentatively towards her. She returned to the bedside immediately, taking his hand gently in a feather-light touch.

"Okay," she murmured, relief flooding through her. "I'll stay..."

Bobby swallowed painfully, and then spoke again.

"Does… your mom know you're here?"

"She knows," Maggie confirmed. "She's waiting downstairs for me. She agreed to drive me here when I told her I wanted to visit you. I, um… I don't really go anywhere without her anymore."

"No shame in that," Bobby told her. "I know," Maggie agreed. "I'm not ashamed of it. The thing is… It's because of you that I can even do that much."

"You took the steps," Bobby pointed out. "I couldn't do that for you. You had to do it yourself."

Maggie gently laid his hand back down on the bed, aware of the pain it was causing him to have it elevated. She didn't break the contact, though.

"You were the one who got through to me. Mom and Dad and Grandpa sent me to the most expensive shrink in the city, but it was you who got through to me. You made me realise that I didn't have to be like Matic to be strong. I'm never going to forget that you did that for me. You saved my life." Maggie hesitated, gathering her thoughts before going on. "When the police came and told us that Simon Matic was out of prison, I was so scared and angry. All I could think of was how you'd told me before the trial that he'd be an old man before he got out of prison."

"I'm sorry," Bobby whispered, struck with a guilt that he knew deep down was completely irrational. Maggie shook her head vigorously.

"No, you don't have to be sorry. I know now that you weren't told. It's just..."

"You were afraid he'd come after you," Bobby said when Maggie stopped.

"Yeah," she admitted softly. "I kind of shut myself in my room. Mom went ballistic. She went to see your captain. I'd never seen her so mad before. But then, she came home and… and told me about you. I felt so sick when she told me what happened to you. He… He hurt you far worse than he hurt me."

"Don't," Bobby told her, wishing dismally that he could actually take her hand. "Don't… don't compare. Don't… minimise your own hurt by comparing yourself to me."

"I'm not," Maggie insisted. "But your hands… your eyes… He did all that to you..."

"He didn't do it alone, Maggie," Bobby said softly. "He had two others helping him."

"There were three of them?" she asked, horrified.

Bobby didn't respond to that. All of a sudden, he was acutely uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed in.

"Is there any… any water there?" he asked, suddenly craving cold water to soothe his sore, swollen throat. Maggie answered in the affirmative, walking around to the other side of the bed and pouring water into a glass. She held it out for him, and he leaned forward carefully, until the straw touched his lips. He was just sipping at the cool water, when Maggie gave a muffled cry of distress.

"Oh god… Your back..."

Bobby let go of the straw and settled back slowly against the pillows once more, mentally berating himself for allowing the girl to have even a glimpse of the mess his attackers had made of his back.

"It's okay," he murmured, at the same time knowing he probably would not be able to placate her. "It… It looks worse than it is."

Tears filled Maggie's eyes, though, as the gravity of his injuries finally began to sink in.

"They really were going to kill you, weren't they"

He hesitated in answering. Had it been anyone else, he might not have answered at all. But Maggie Coulter was one person to whom he felt he owed an honest answer.

"I… I don't think I was meant to live," Bobby confirmed softly as he again remembering Richie's promise that he wouldn't live through his ordeal.

"I'm so sorry," Maggie whispered tearfully, and that drew a small, sad smile from Bobby.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" he asked in a gently chiding tone.

"I don't know," Maggie admitted, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden. "I just… I feel like I needed to say it."

"Well, you don't," Bobby told her, as firmly as he was able. Maggie was silent for nearly a minute before speaking again.

"Do you…. remember what you said to me? In my room that day?"

Bobby didn't answer. Right at that moment, his memory just wasn't coping too well, and the memories he had of that day when he and Alex had gone to talk to Maggie were sketchy at best. Maggie spoke after a moment's silence.

"You told me that I wasn't weak, I was strong… because I lived through it. I just wanted to say… the same thing to you. You're strong, Detective Goren. You… You lived through it. Don't ever forget that."

Bobby's breath caught in his throat, and soft sob escaped his bruised lips before he could stop it. Little did Maggie know just how true her words were. He had lived through it. He had lived through hours of torture… just as she had.

He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, and he felt himself being drawn down to the girl, her arms going around him in a gentle, comforting hug. He put up only minimal resistance before breaking down in her arms, and crying softly into her shoulder.

Maggie felt, rather than heard, the shuddering sobs that passed through the detective's body, and felt her own eyes flood with stinging tears in response to his pain. It was a strange reversal of roles that they'd undergone, and yet there was nothing discomforting about it. She shut her eyes against the tears and held him as tightly as she dared, conscious as she was of his injuries.

The minutes passed, and it was only as she felt his sobs easing that she finally drew back from him.

"Thankyou, Maggie," Bobby whispered, genuinely grateful for her kindness.

"I have to go now," she told him quietly. "But I could come back again… I mean, if you wanted me too."

"I'd appreciate that," Bobby answered. Maggie hesitated for just a moment, then leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. His breathing quickened briefly at the unexpected contact, but he was relieved that he felt no genuine panic, and no desire to lash out.

"I'll bring some music with me next time, if you'd like," she suggested as she headed for the door, and he nodded in wordless encouragement and gratitude. Music would be good. It would go a long way to making the sterile environment a lot easier to cope with.

Maggie murmured a last goodbye, and then she was gone. Bobby listened carefully for the sound of her footsteps, but she apparently walked lightly enough that he couldn't hear her. He sank back into the multitude of pillows that he was surrounded by, clutching his mother's book as tightly as he could and trying to sort out his emotions.

Something felt different inside him. It wasn't a huge thing, just a very small difference. Somewhere, deep inside of him, he felt the tiniest spark of warmth that had been ignited by Maggie's visit. She had helped him more than she could possibly realise, and he silently thanked God for sending her to him.

There was someone who really did know what he'd been through, someone who wasn't just grandstanding when she told him that she understood. A small, sad smile touched his lips. Angels came in the most unexpected forms…

He drew in a steady breath, slowly becoming aware that his heart was pounding in his chest. Following his doctor's instructions, he lay still and kept his breathing long and even as he waited for his heart to stop racing.

It took him nearly a minute to realise that the calming technique wasn't working, and that his heartbeat was getting faster by the second. He opened his mouth to call out to the officers standing guard outside his door, but no sound came out. Then, as his breath began to seize up in his very lungs and throat, the panic began to take hold.

Bobby gathered what little strength he had and rolled to the side, reaching weakly to the dresser beside his bed, reaching for the button that would alert the nurses on duty. His hands struck the glass, sending it to the floor where it shattered explosively. He found the button, only to discover that his bandaged hands were incapable of pushing it.

Panic hit full force, sending his body into violent, painful convulsions.

His body slipped off the bed and he fell to the floor with a painful crash, bringing down both IV units and the heart monitor into the bargain, and the last thing he was aware of as darkness took him was the horrible, isolating silence.

* * *

_tbc..._


	19. Developments

A/N: In the interests of not leaving everyone hanging for a prolonged period, I'm posting a shorter chapter, so you can find out what happened with poor Bobby at the end of chapter 18.

* * *

Deakins paused as they came back along the corridor, only to find the cop who should have been standing watch outside Bobby's room gone.

"What the hell?" Deakins growled. "Where is he…?"

"Relax, Jim," Cragen told him with a wry smile. "He probably just had to go to the bathroom."

Deakins conceded, if somewhat reluctantly. Picking up the pace slightly, though, he hurried up the corridor and strode into Bobby's room. He was barely inside the doorway when he froze, horror dawning on his face.

"Oh god… No…"

"What is it…?" Cragen started to ask, only to stop when Deakins broke into a run, darting around to the other side of the bed and falling hard to his knees beside Bobby's still convulsing body. Cragen and Casey came around the bed, and Casey promptly spun on her heel and shot out of the room in search of help.

"Bobby?" Deakins spoke loudly and clearly to the detective, while at the same time trying to hold him down. "Can you hear me?"

It was a pointless question, and both men knew it. Bobby was far beyond being able to respond, even if he was aware of his captain's presence.

"Get your knees under his head," Cragen told him quickly. "So he doesn't crack his head on the floor."

Deakins did so, shifting around to lift Bobby's head up off the floor and rest it on his knees.

"He's not breathing," he said tensely, struggling to keep the panic out of his voice.

Footsteps in the corridor alerted them to someone coming, and they both looked just as Dr Craig ran into the room, followed closely by a second doctor and a couple of nurses. She took one look at Bobby, and promptly moved in, pushing Deakins unceremoniously out of the way.

"He's in respiratory distress," she said urgently, speaking to the other doctor and nurses. "We have to intubate, immediately." Her sharp gaze went to Deakins and Cragen, who were both looking on in numb shock. "Out. Now."

Her tone of voice denied all arguments, and both captains quickly found themselves bundled out of the room, and the door slammed shut after them.

* * *

Alex, Logan and Danny returned to the ICU just fifteen minutes after they'd left for a hit of much-needed coffee. They'd relaxed considerably, and were ready to face Bobby again. Their new-found relief was diminished with painful abruptness as they returned to find Deakins standing outside the room, with both Don Cragen and Casey Novak attempting to offer him quiet words of comfort.

"Hey, what's going on?" Logan asked, a frown quickly replacing the smile that had been on his face only moments before.

"Something's happened to Bobby," Alex said softly, the panic only too audible in her voice. Deakins stared at them for a long moment, but before he had a chance to even start trying to explain, the door of Bobby's ICU room swung open, and Dr Craig emerged.

"I need to know," she said grimly, "how long was he left alone for?" Deakins looked helplessly at Cragen. In the panic, he'd lost complete track of how much time had passed. Cragen answered firmly.

"No longer than fifteen minutes… Twenty at the absolute most."

"What's happened?" Danny asked, echoing Logan's question from less than a minute before.

"Bobby went into respiratory arrest," Craig explained. "His throat became so swollen that he couldn't breathe on his own, and on top of that he seems to have developed an infection that has severely compromised his lung functionality. His lungs couldn't cope with the effort it was taking to breathe, and they more or less just shut down."

"Are you saying you had to trache him?" Danny asked, paling noticeably.

"Hang on," Logan growled before Craig had the opportunity to respond. "Trache…? As in, tracheotomy? You're saying you had to cut a hole in his throat?"

"Calm down, everyone," Dr Craig ordered. She looked around at the small group in mild frustration. "Let me finish, please?" Silence fell, and she nodded in relief. "Thankyou. I thought I was going to have to perform a tracheotomy, but we successfully intubated him instead."

"Intubate?" Cragen queried.

"We were able to get a tube down his throat," Craig explained. "We have him on a respirator to keep the oxygen flowing through his body, and doing the job that his lungs just aren't capable of at the moment. Yes, this is a setback, but it isn't as bad as it could have been. You all need to understand that."

"Not as bad?" Deakins echoed incredulously. Craig smile reassuringly at him.

"It was respiratory arrest, Captain, not cardiac arrest. His heart never stopped beating, which means that the blood never stopped flowing."

"Well, isn't respiratory arrest just as bad as cardiac arrest?" Casey wondered.

"It can be," Craig confirmed, "if the brain is without oxygen for long enough. As near as I can tell, Bobby was in complete respiratory arrest for a couple of minutes at the most. We'll be monitoring him very closely, but I can say with reasonable certainty that he wasn't in that state long enough to cause any long term damage. Now, we need to focus specifically on why this happened, and how to fix it."

"Can we go in now?" Danny asked, keeping one eye on Alex who had fallen into a worrying silence. Craig nodded her agreement.

"Yes, that's fine, but keep in mind that we had to sedate him fairly heavily. He probably won't wake up now for another twenty-four hours. And the intubation may look a little frightening, but it's keeping him breathing."

"Thankyou," Deakins murmured and, led the way back into the room.

* * *

They entered in silence. Alex immediately abandoned all caution and went straight to her partner's side, looking down at his now passive features with an intense feeling of misery.

Dr Craig had been right. The sight of the thick tubing down Bobby's throat was frightening to look at, but that was countered by the reassuring sight of his chest moving up and down in a rhythmic motion, thanks to the steady, even breaths the respirator was ensuring that he took.

"I'll be organising to have him moved to a new room, where he'll be on twenty-four hour watch by the nurses," Dr Craig explained. "It's more a precaution than anything else, but if anything else happens, I don't want there to be any delay in our response. He was lucky this time. If there is a next time, I don't plan on leaving it up to luck."

"Alex?" Danny asked finally, once Dr Craig had left the room. "Are you all right?"

Alex didn't look up at any of them. She kept her gaze fixed on Bobby, as though she could keep all dangers at bay just by not taking her eyes off him.

"I shouldn't have left him alone," she said in a strained voice.

"It's not your fault, Alex," Deakins told her as he joined her at the bedside. "It's no one's fault. And he got help in time to stop any real harm from being done…"

"That's not the point!" Alex burst out. "There should have been someone here with him when it happened. Then he would have gotten help straight away! He could have ended up brain damaged… or even dead… and then there's this damned tube!"

"Alex, that 'damned tube' is keeping him breathing," Danny pointed out gently.

"It's also taken away his only means of communicating with us," Alex snapped. The men exchanged dismayed looks as they realised just how right Alex was. With the tube down his throat and his hands bandaged up, Bobby no longer had any way to communicate with anyone.

"It won't be for long, I'm sure of it," Danny murmured, though he suddenly looked less than certain.

"We just have to give them time to figure it out," Logan said. "You know, so it doesn't happen again."

Grim determination filled Alex's pale features, and she pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down.

"You're right. It won't."

"Alex, you can't just stay indefinitely…" Cragen started to point out, only to trail off when she glared at him threateningly.

"No? Just watch me."

* * *

Elliot and Olivia sat slumped in an inconspicuous Ford across the road from the staff side entrance into St Clare's. They'd come prepared for a prolonged stakeout, and were well-stocked with thermoses of coffee, plenty of fruit and a few cinnamon buns.

"You think Cozza would really try anything?" Olivia asked. "He'd be stupid to think that Bobby wouldn't be well-guarded."

"Hatred is a pretty powerful driving force," Elliot said with a shrug. "The guy hated Bobby enough to blow off his chance at freedom. I don't think the threat of a few cops is going to stop him now. So yeah, I think he'd try."

Olivia sighed softly.

"He'd be a fool. Alex would cheerfully shoot him on sight. In fact, I think Deakins would, too."

Elliot grunted wordlessly around a mouthful of coffee. Olivia looked sideways at him, concern in her brown eyes.

"It really was bad, wasn't it? Everything that Bobby told you…"

"It was as bad as anything I've ever heard," Elliot mumbled, not entirely sure he wanted to talk about it to her. "I guess you were right, though."

"Hmm? About what?"

"About him opening up better to just one of us. I have to say, though, I wish it wasn't me."

Olivia mulled over that for a minute before responding carefully.

"You really don't like Bobby very much at all, do you?"

Elliot looked sharply at her, but quickly took a pull on his temper.

"I didn't… Before all this happened, I mean. I'll admit it. The guy pissed me off. Fucking know-it-all most of the time. I always thought he was the darling of the brass. It was almost like he wasn't even human. Like some entity that was above the rest of us."

"And now?" Olivia pressed gently when Elliot hesitated. He grimaced.

"I guess he's human after all."

"You've done well with him, Elliot. And you can't tell me that it's all just for show."

"It's not," Elliot admitted. "Seeing Bobby like that… First in his apartment, and then in the hospital… No one deserves to be treated like that. And what the hell did he ever do to deserve it, anyway? Not a goddamn thing."

Olivia nodded in wordless agreement, even as her gaze spotted a familiar figure crossing the road towards them.

"Heads up," she murmured. "Captain's coming."

Both detectives watched curiously as Cragen hurried over to their car, and slipped into the backseat.

"Anything wrong?" Olivia asked.

"Depends," Cragen answered. "Elliot, did you get pretty much everything we needed from Goren the last time that you talked to him?"

Elliot shrugged.

"Well, there's still a hell of a lot he hasn't told me, but we've got what we need to nail Cozza with… if we can nab him before the Feds do."

"Why do you ask?" Olivia asked, sensing a problem.

"Because it may be a while before Goren can talk to you again. He went into respiratory arrest about half an hour ago, and they had to shove a tube down his throat to get him breathing again. He's not going to be talking to anyone until they can get him breathing on his own again."

"Shit," Elliot muttered. "It just keeps going from bad to worse for the poor guy, doesn't it?"

"How long is this going to be for?" Olivia wondered. Cragen shook his head.

"No way of knowing. I suppose it depends on how long it takes them to find out why it happened in the first place, and then what they have to do to fix it."

"What the hell is there to figure out?" Elliot retorted. "He was tortured physically and sexually for more than ten hours, and then left to die. Hell, it's no wonder vital parts of his body are packing it in."

"Elliot's right," Olivia agreed. "It's going to be some time before he's completely out of danger, and I think we all keep forgetting that it's only been four days since it happened."

Cragen grimaced.

"Damned easy to lose track of time…"

He trailed off as his cell phone rang. Frowning, he checked the caller ID before answering, and then swore softly.

"Fucking Feds…"

Elliot and Olivia exchanged barely suppressed smirks, but kept silent as their captain took the call.

"Cragen here… Oh, really? When the hell did this happen…? Well, that's really fucking sweet of you to let us know. I don't suppose you'd let us talk to him out of the spirit of cooperation…? No, I didn't think so. Well, I suggest you just keep him sitting tight for the time being, and don't get any ideas about losing him in the system. We _will_ be challenging this in court."

Cragen snapped his cell phone shut, and then looked back up at Elliot and Olivia.

"Stakeout's over, kids. The Feds nabbed Cozza an hour ago."

"Fuck," Elliot muttered heatedly. "And they're not going to let us talk to him, are they?"

Cragen snorted.

"Not a chance. We need to get back to SVU. I have to talk to Casey. If need be, we'll go to Branch and have him step in. We're not giving that mutt up without a fight, I promise you."

"Don't promise us," Elliot muttered as he pulled the car away from the curb to head back to the SVU squad rooms. "We're not the ones lying in a hospital bed with a tube shoved down our throats.

* * *

_tbc..._


	20. Confrontations

A/N: My apologies for the delay in this latest chapter. Circumstances have been working against me over the last few weeks, keeping me from getting this done, but I hope this will make the wait worthwhile.  
I had considered making this a cliffhanger chapter, but then thought better of it. I feel lousy enough at the moment without the risk of a cyber-lynching.

* * *

"There's more bad news," Cragen admitted a short while later as he, Elliot and Olivia made their way back into the SVU squad room.

"Such as?" Olivia asked with a frown, not entirely sure that she wanted to know.

"Richard Goren has been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia," Cragen told them.

It took several seconds for Cragen to realise that he was no longer accompanied by either Elliot or Olivia. Stopping, he looked back to find his two detectives were standing frozen, staring at him in disbelief.

"No…" Elliot growled as he finally found his voice. "No fucking way! That's bullshit, Captain! That son of a bitch is not schizophrenic! He's just pulling a fast one to get out of going back to prison!"

"Elliot's right," Olivia agreed. "Captain, if anyone would know all the tricks to convince a shrink, it'd be Richie. The guy is a con man by trade, and he grew up with a schizophrenic mother! He'd know all the tricks inside out! He wouldn't have any trouble convincing a shrink that he's sick."

"I know you don't want to believe it," Cragen said, "and I don't want to believe it either, but the bottom line is that Richard Goren had a complete psychotic break this morning. Honestly, I'd love for nothing more than for Huang to come back from Rikers and say the son of a bitch is just faking it, but I don't think that's going to happen. Right now, the best we can hope for is that he'll be institutionalised under high security for the rest of his life."

"Is that why you were at the hospital?" Olivia asked. "You told Bobby?"

Cragen gave a short, bitter laugh.

"No, I wouldn't have dropped that bombshell on Goren even if he had been fully conscious, which he wasn't. They had to sedate him after the intubation, and he probably won't be conscious again for another twenty-four hours. No, I went to tell Deakins."

"I bet I can guess how he handled hearing that," Olivia grumbled. Cragen hesitated, taking in their sour looks, and then sighed quietly.

"No, he didn't take the news too well, but it was still better than I anticipated. Look, he's not deliberately been trying to interfere with your case. He's just worried sick about his detective, and I can't fault him for that."

"We don't, either," Elliot insisted. "It's just frustrating, having Deakins breathing down our necks at every turn. If that's how Goren and Eames have to work, I don't know how they can stand it."

"I know from experience that Jim Deakins isn't normally that bad," Cragen assured them as he led them down the corridor and into his office. "But this is an exceptional circumstance."

"Are you saying that's how you'd behave if it were one of us in Bobby's place?" Elliot asked. Cragen smiled, but there was no humour in it.

"I think I just might."

"Okay," Olivia sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"I'll contact Casey," Cragen told them. "I don't particularly like our chances, but we're going to fight to get Cozza away from the Feds." He paused, looking out into the bullpen, and then frowned. "One of you, get on the phone and tell Fin and Munch to get their asses back here. We need to start wrapping this one up."

* * *

"Wrap it up, he says," Elliot muttered sourly. "Shit… You know, we made a promise, 'Liv. We told Bobby that whoever hurt him wouldn't get away with it, but that's exactly what's going to happen."

"It's a promise we should never have made," Olivia murmured. "We can never make a guarantee like that."

Elliot shook his head angrily.

"It just pisses me off, knowing that Matic is the only one who's gonna get anything remotely like what he deserves, and he'll probably be a fucking hero when he gets back to prison. I tell you, I am not looking forward to breaking this to Bobby. Especially the news about his brother."

Olivia sighed softly as she sank into her chair and reached for the phone.

"It doesn't make any sense. Maybe I don't know a whole lot about schizophrenia, but what I do know is that they're generally not violent… At least, not to this degree. Even with everything that happened to Richie in prison, if he really is schizophrenic, I don't understand how he could have had the clarity of mind to plan and organise the attack. According to what Matic told me and Munch, Richie arranged everything, including the chlorphenesin. That's not an easy drug to come by at the best of times."

"You're right," Elliot agreed. "How would Richie have even known about it? He was never on any meds while he was in prison, and the only drugs he got busted for in Rikers was cocaine."

Shaking her head ruefully, Olivia began to dial Munch's cell phone number, to tell them the search was off.

* * *

"Hey, sleeping beauty, wake up!"

Munch grunted in response to Fin's shout.

"You don't have to shout. I was awake."

"Yeah, sure you were," Fin snorted. "Your phone's ringing, Pinocchio."

Glowering at his partner, Munch answered the persistent ringing of his cell phone.

"Munch. …Oh, hey, 'Liv… What? You're kidding… Okay… All right, we'll be back soon."

"What is it now?" Fin asked as Munch ended the call.

"Stakeout's over. The Feds have Cozza."

"Ah, shit," Fin muttered. "There goes that one down the rabbit hole. Wonder who Cragen will nominate to break that one to Bobby…?"

"I vote for Elliot," Munch volunteered. Fin grunted and started to reach for the keys to start the car, but stopped short of actually doing so.

"So, are we heading back or what?" Munch asked when, nearly half a minute later, Fin still hadn't made any effort to start the car.

"I don't like it," Fin said quietly. Munch rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

"I think we've well established that none of us are happy about it, but what can we do about it?"

A second later, Munch was wishing he hadn't asked when Fin tossed him the car keys and got out of the car.

"Hey!" Munch called after him. "Where the hell are you going?"

"It's okay," Fin reassured him. "Go on back to SVU, John. Tell Cragen I'm just taken my turn sitting guard on Bobby's door."

Munch watched, baffled, as Fin darted across the street and disappeared into the hospital. Then, shaking his head in frustration, Munch pulled his cell phone out once more to call Olivia back, and let her know that they wouldn't be returning to headquarters after all.

* * *

Elliot watched out of the corner of his eye as Olivia answered her cell phone. He waited in patient silence while she spoke, not saying a word until she'd ended the call.

"Munch again?" he asked, acutely aware of her sudden agitation. She nodded in answer.

"He asked me to tell Cragen that they're staying at the hospital for the time being."

"What? Why?"

Olivia shook her head as she stood up and headed for Cragen's office.

"I don't know. He didn't explain."

"Cragen's going to hit the roof," Elliot called after her. She glared back at him as she reached the captain's door, but said nothing before knocking and going in.

* * *

"What is it, Olivia?" Cragen asked tersely as she walked in. She hesitated for just a moment, wishing she'd taken a minute to work out what she was going to say before going in.

"Ah… Sir… I just spoke to Munch. They want to stay at St Clare's for a bit longer."

Cragen looked up at her slowly, and it was all Olivia could do not to cringe. He set his pen down and sat back in his chair, his full attention focused exclusively on her.

"Did they say why?"

"Not really. Just… something about Fin having a hunch."

"A hunch?" Cragen echoed sharply, and that time Olivia did flinch. He stared at her for several seconds that seemed to drag on forever, not saying a word while he processed that information.

"Get Elliot, and head back to the hospital," Cragen said quietly, abruptly. "Find Fin and Munch, and I want the four of you to set yourselves up so that no one can get to Goren without any of you knowing it."

"He's still in the ICU, Captain. They're not going to be happy about being overrun with cops…"

"I don't care, Olivia. Just ask them which they'd prefer, to be inconvenienced for a little while, or to have a patient murdered right under their noses."

Olivia gaped at him.

"You think they lied… The Feds lied about having Cozza in custody…"

"I don't know," Cragen said grimly. "All I know is that this whole situation stinks to high heaven, and if Fin has a hunch that Goren might still be in danger, then that's good enough for me. Get Elliot and get back to the hospital as fast as you can. I suspect we have a very small window of opportunity open to us, and it isn't going to last long."

Olivia practically ran from his office.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Elliot said as he guided their speeding car through the midtown traffic. "Fin has a hunch, and all of a sudden we're all back on guard duty?"

Olivia stared out of the window, her brow creased with worry.

"What if he's right, Elliot? What if the Feds don't have Cozza at all? What if they lied just to get us out of the way, so they can grab the son of a bitch out from under our noses?"

"And probably sacrifice Bobby into the bargain," Elliot muttered heatedly. "You're right. We can't take the chance. Screw whether or not we manage to get Cozza. This is about keeping Bobby safe."

Olivia nodded in agreement.

"Those bastards from the FBI were willing to hang him out to dry before. I doubt they'd pass up the chance to use him for bait now."

Gritting his teeth, Elliot stomped his foot down on the accelerator.

* * *

Alex emerged from the women's bathroom situated at the far end of the corridor from the ICU wing, feeling sick and tired, and just generally wasted. Despite her resolve to stay at Bobby's side, her stomach had had other ideas, and she'd ended up having to make a dash for the nearest toilet.

It was the shock of everything that had happened finally catching up to her, she was sure of that. There was no other explanation for her sudden inability to hold down the contents of her stomach.

"Alex, are you okay?"

She looked around to see Deakins approaching her, a worried look creasing his brow. Her shoulders slumped. She couldn't lie to him, and they both knew it.

"Not really," she admitted miserably. Deakins sighed softly.

"I know, it's just getting to be too much, isn't it?"

She regarded him bitterly.

"If we can't cope, how the hell is Bobby going to be able to? He's the one who has to learn to live with what happened. _He's_ the one who experienced it."

"I know," Deakins murmured. "I didn't mean that the way it came out, Alex. You know that."

"I'm sorry," Alex apologised, but Deakins shook his head.

"Don't apologise. I do understand, Alex."

She sighed faintly, and then looked up at him questioningly.

"Where are you going?"

"I have to get back to the office. Since Bobby isn't likely to be awake again before tomorrow, I can't make excuses for staying. What about you, Alex?"

Her expression hardened noticeably.

"What about me?"

"Alex, you've been away from the hospital once in the last four days. If you're as exhausted as I feel…"

"I won't leave him," she insisted. "Captain, you wouldn't even bother suggesting it if mine and Bobby's situations were reversed."

Deakins nodded in reluctant concession. It was true, Bobby would have been camped out in the hospital, and they would have needed sedatives and a good pair of handcuffs to drag him away.

"Then at least go and get yourself something decent to eat," he suggested. "Get out of the hospital just for a little while. Logan is with Bobby at the moment…"

"Just Logan? Where's Danny?"

"His pager went off just after you… walked out. He went to call the number. I got the impression he wasn't too happy about it. I'm sure I heard him say something like 'Nazi bitch' under his breath as he went out."

Alex hesitated, mulling over the wisdom of giving herself even just a short break away from the stifling confines of the Intensive Care Unit.

"Logan…" she repeated, unable to keep the scepticism entirely out of her voice. Deakins had to smile at her tone.

"He's a decent guy, Alex. He didn't have to come back. He didn't have to come in the first place."

"Okay," she conceded finally, realising dimly that she was simply too tired to argue with him. "I'll go get something to eat… Get out of the place for a little while. I'll just let Logan know…"

"No need," Deakins told her, a small smile lighting up his face. "I already told him I'd get you out of the building, one way or another."

Alex shook her head again in mock irritation as he guided her in the direction of the lifts.

"I never pictured you as cunning, Captain."

"No? How do you think I got to be head of the Major Case Squad if I wasn't?"

* * *

"…No! Goddamn it, that's not fair!"

Alex slowed to a halt, hearing Danny's voice just around the corner. He sounded angry, she mused. No, strike that. He sounded thoroughly pissed off.

She paused in going around the corner, electing to listen in on the one-sided conversation, and try to work out just what was wrong.

"…I know it was short notice, but it was approved! Damn it, I was given five weeks… No, you can't revoke it on those grounds! It shouldn't matter whether he's my cousin or my brother, I'm the only family he has… I don't give a shit whether or not the client prefers me! I have a responsibility…"

Silence fell very abruptly, and Alex finally stepped slowly around the corner to find Danny leaning against the wall, his face white and his lips pressed together thinly in anger. Her stomach knotted with fear as she watched him, waiting for him to end the call so he could explain.

"All right," he said finally, looking thoroughly sick as he spoke. "Okay… But I'm not happy about this, and I'll be talking to Anna as soon as I get back."

He snapped the cell phone shut, then looked around slowly at Alex.

"Got a problem?" she asked softly, silently dreading whatever explanation he had to offer. Danny stared at her for a long minute in silence, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to work out exactly what to tell her.

"I… I have to go," he stammered finally. Alex felt her stomach roll unpleasantly. In her heart, she knew immediately what he meant, but chose to play ignorant. Whether that was out of a desire to see Danny squirm, or pure denial, she would never know.

"Okay," she said slowly. "That's a good idea, to go and get some rest. I'll call you at the hotel if anything happens."

Danny groaned softly, and pressed his hands over his face.

"You know that isn't what I mean."

"I know," she answered softly. He looked at her miserably.

"My leave has been revoked. My bosses want me back in DC tomorrow morning."

Alex drew in an unsteady breath.

"You have to tell them that you can't," she argued. Danny shook his head.

"I wish it was that simple, Alex. That was my CEO on the phone… Janelle Stevens. The woman's a bitch at the best of times. She… She said that because Bobby isn't immediate family, I can't claim compassionate leave to help look after him, and I have no other leave available. She said if I'm not back at my desk within twenty-four hours, then not to bother coming back at all. I have to go back. I can't afford to lose my job."

"Within twenty-four hours?" Alex asked incredulously, feeling her temper starting to rise even as she stared up at Danny's remorseful expression. "You mean you won't even wait long enough for Bobby to wake up, to tell him directly?"

"Alex…" Danny started to say, but she cut him off angrily.

"No, forget it. You have to go? Just go."

"I will come back," Danny insisted. "I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

"As soon as you can," Alex echoed scathingly. "That's really going to make Bobby feel better, isn't it? Damn it, Danny, how do you think he's going to feel when he wakes up and finds out that you've gone?"

Danny looked away from her, feeling truly sick. Alex nodded furiously, wiping angrily at the tears in her eyes.

"You told him you wouldn't desert him. You _promised_ him, Danny!"

"I know I did!" Danny burst out, looking back at her in distress. "Do you think I'm happy about this? I'm not, and if I could find a way around it, I would! Damn it, I don't want to do this to Bobby. I know what his issues are with abandonment… and with trust… but I don't have a choice! I haven't been given a choice."

Alex answered his outburst with a long silence. When she finally spoke again, it was with a dull calm that sent a slight shudder through Danny.

"Don't worry yourself about Bobby. I won't let him down."

Danny flinched visibly, but Alex never saw it. She was already walking away from him, as fast as she could.

* * *

Alex headed for the lifts, but changed her mind upon seeing the number of people waiting. She had no desire to have a bunch of strangers staring at her, especially when she just didn't seem to be able to hold back the tears. Instead, she made for the stairs, hoping for some privacy.

Inside the stairwell, Alex slumped sideways against the wall, sobbing heavily into her arms. Damn Danny, she thought angrily. Damn him to hell for not having the balls to stand up to his bosses. He _knew_ Bobby's sense of trust in those closest to him had been severely damaged, and yet there he was, ready to do exactly the same thing.

And yet, even as she tried to maintain her anger, she reluctantly accepted that she was being unfair to him. She knew without a doubt that Deakins would not do anything to force her to leave Bobby's side, and return to work. He probably hoped that reason would eventually rule her emotions, but until then he wasn't going to push her, and she knew it. She needed to be there for her partner, and they both knew it.

Danny did not have the luxury of that sort of understanding with his employers.

As much as she wanted to, Alex couldn't bring herself to stay angry at Danny. She knew he cared about his cousin, and he wouldn't leave Bobby unless he really had no choice.

That was what she told herself, with a desperation that bordered on manic.

A door creaked open somewhere below, and Alex heard footsteps on the stairs, coming up towards her. She turned her back on whoever it was, doctor or nurse… or, more likely, Danny come after her to make his peace. Either way, she had no desire to let anyone see the state she'd worked herself into.

The footsteps paused for a long moment before continuing on up the stairs, until they stopped right behind her. Two hands alighted on her shoulders and she tried, without success, to shrug them off.

"Look, just leave me alone, okay?" she growled, starting to turn around.

A moment later, all the wind was knocked out of her as she was slammed back against the wall, and pinned there firmly. A hand covered her mouth, effectively muffling any sound she might have tried to make, and a strong body pressed hard against hers, making it impossible for her to move.

Her eyes widened with fear as she found herself staring up into the soulless eyes of Richard Chops Cozza.

"Sorry, Detective," Chops whispered. "No can do. I have some unfinished business with your partner, and I don't really want you interfering."

Alex struggled against him, but he was simply too strong for her. She couldn't move, and she couldn't make a sound. Briefly, she wondered whether this was even remotely like Bobby had felt that night when he was attacked.

Her eyes flickered downward, searching for a gun or a knife, but he produced neither. Chops smiled viciously at her.

"Don't get me wrong, Detective. I'd love to put a bullet between your pretty brown eyes, but I don't have the time to waste. So, I'm just gonna have to settle for this, instead…"

He swung Alex around and gave her a brutal shove. She stumbled and fell, made a last frantic grab at the handrail, and missed.

Her shins hit the stairs as she fell, followed by her shoulder as her body rolled and bounced, hitting each stair with painful accuracy. Her body hit the floor and her head struck the floor with a sickening smack. She stiffened once, just briefly, before slumping unconscious against the floor.

Chops stood at the top of the stairs, surveying his handiwork impassively before continuing on his way toward his final target.

* * *

Fin and Munch met Olivia in the foyer of the hospital, all four detectives on edge by now.

"A hunch, Fin?" Elliot asked wryly. Fin shrugged.

"Maybe I'm wrong, but if I am, then why are there Federal agents hanging around still hanging around the hospital?"

Olivia nodded.

"Well, Cragen wants us to set ourselves up so that no one can get anywhere near Bobby without us knowing about it."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Fin said. "On of us can sit on his door, someone can stay near the lifts, by the south entrance into the ICU… someone down at the north ICU entrance, and someone in the stairwell."

"I'll take the south entrance," Munch volunteered. Elliot nodded.

"I'll take the stairwell."

Olivia looked over at Fin.

"You take Bobby's door, Fin, and I'll take the north entrance. Everyone keep in touch at all times. Okay, guys, let's go."

* * *

Chops paused at the end of the corridor, just inside the entrance to the ICU wing, sizing up the situation before him. Right at that moment, there was no cop sitting guard on the detective's door. Chops wasted no time or energy wondering why; he simply accepted providence with gratitude. That left whoever was inside the room to deal with.

He walked quickly and quietly down the corridor, unnoticed by the nursing staff that moved around quietly. Coming up to the door of Bobby's room, Chops took one last, quick look around before slipping inside and shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Elliot entered the stairwell, wondering dimly why he'd volunteered for that particular duty. Frowning, he paused to check his radio to make sure he could still receive a signal, and then walked around to sit on the top step.

"Fuck!"

The word exploded out of his mouth as his gaze fell on the body that lay in a crumpled heap below, and Elliot took the steps three at a time in his rush to get down there.

"Sweet Jesus… Alex… Can you hear me?"

It was a pointless effort, he realised quickly. She was unconscious and unresponsive, and had been in this state for God only knew how long.

"Come in, Olivia," Elliot spoke urgently into his radio. It crackled loudly as she responded straight away.

"What's up, Elliot?"

"I'm in the stairwell with Alex Eames. It looks like she was pushed down the stairs."

"Is she okay?"

"She's out cold, but she's breathing okay. Look, Cozza must already be in the building. You've got to get Fin and Munch, and get to Bobby's room, now! I'll stay with Alex."

"On our way."

* * *

Logan stood silently at Bobby's bedside, staring down at the injured detective's passive features in dismal silence. When he'd first met Bobby Goren, all he had seen was an arrogant, smart ass cop who he honestly believed had needed to be taken down a peg or two. His opinion had changed in light of the incident in the prison, but even then he'd not considered that he would ever want to make an effort to be genuine friends with Bobby.

Passing acquaintances? Sure. An occasional drink at the bar, and a game of pool? Maybe. But friends? If someone had suggested that only a week ago, he would have laughed in their faces.

Now, though, Logan couldn't bring himself to even smile at the idea. The truth was that if Bobby was willing to accept his friendship, then Logan was willing to offer it. And God knew, Bobby needed all the friends he could get right then.

He dreaded what would happen when Bobby woke up from the sedatives he'd been given, and realised he had a tube shoved down his throat. As Alex had said, it had virtually removed his one remaining means of communication. He couldn't speak, he couldn't signal with his hands… He didn't even have the 'blink once or twice' option open to him.

It was going to be bad for a while, of that Logan had no doubt, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be around for it.

The door opened behind him, and Logan heard footsteps that were too heavy for it to be Alex. Which meant it was either Deakins or Danny come back. Logan started to turn to greet whoever it was, but before he was able to turn fully, something struck him hard across the side of the head, causing his head to explode in a blaze of light and stars, and sending him crashing into the bed, and then to the floor. A foot found his side, and he felt at least one of his ribs break. A second kick, and Logan cried out as his wrist snapped from the brutal blow.

Then, a strong pair of hands grabbed his jacket and dragged him roughly away from the bedside, leaving him slumped in a heap in the corner of the room. Hands lifted his jacket, and removed his gun. Then, as his attacker moved back, the stars cleared a little and Logan managed to focus on the man standing over him.

"Just relax, Detective," a rough voice told him. "This won't take a moment."

Logan looked on dazedly as Chops walked over to Bobby's bedside, and looked down thoughtfully at the unconscious detective.

"Too easy," Chops muttered, and reached out to switch off the ventilator.

"Do that, and you won't walk out of this place alive," Logan gasped, wishing desperately that his head would stop spinning long enough for him to be able to get up. Chops grinned at him.

"Are you shitting me? I do this, and I'll walk straight out of here into a Federal escort. You think they give a shit about Detective Goren? They don't. Why do you think they're not in here right now trying to stop me?"

Shaking his head, Chops returned his attention to the ventilator. He observed it thoughtfully for a long moment before switching off the ventilator. Bobby's chest rose weakly once, twice, before the breath stilled in his body. The heart monitor began to spike wildly as his body fought to compensate for the sudden loss of the aid provided by the ventilator.

With a burst of rage-fuelled strength, Logan hauled himself to his feet and threw himself at Chops, even as the heart monitor went flat-line, and an alarm began to ring.

* * *

Olivia ran through the swinging doors into the ICU with Fin right behind her and Munch coming from the far end, just as an alarm began to ring.

"What is that?" she asked a nurse that emerged out of the duty office at the sound of the alarm.

"Code blue," the nurse told her urgently. "It's Detective Goren's room. It means he's in cardiac arrest."

Olivia ran for the room.

* * *

Logan barely managed to get to his feet before Chops swung the gun around and fired at him. The single shot sent Logan staggering backwards and collapsing heavily against the wall, where he slid back to the floor in a heap, clutching at his shoulder.

Chops grinned fleetingly at Logan before bolting from the room.

* * *

"Richard Cozza, stop right there!" Fin bellowed as Chops ran out of the room, only to find himself confronted by armed police on both sides. There was nowhere for him to go, but a grin spread across his face regardless.

"You can't touch me," he taunted them. "None of you can."

"Think again, asshole," Munch snapped. "Now put the gun down."

Chops stood still for a long moment before shrugging and bending down to place the gun on the floor. Olivia started to move in when he suddenly came back up again, lifting the gun to aim straight at Olivia. She didn't hesitate, firing once with trained accuracy. The young man was dead before he hit the floor.

"Nice shooting, 'Liv," Fin said quietly, grimly, as he edged over and picked up Logan's gun.

"I didn't want to do that," she said ruefully.

"On the bright side," Munch commented blithely, "the Feds won't be getting him now for their indictments. I guess one of us had better call Cragen and tell him, so he can go into damage control."

"Forget the Feds," Olivia growled, reaching for Bobby's door. "Let's check on Bobby."

She walked into the room just in time to see Dr Craig carefully restarting the ventilator while a second doctor crouched beside Logan, holding a thick compress to his shoulder wound.

"Relax," Craig reassured them with a small smile as Olivia, Fin and Munch looked on anxiously. "He'll be fine. Robert's strong, he was easily revived and no serious harm was done. Not sure I can say the same for you colleague down there, though."

Munch walked over and crouched down on Logan's other side, eyeing his friend with ill-concealed amusement.

"It's not serious, the bullet went straight through. It's really only a flesh wound," the doctor said when Munch looked at him questioningly. The lanky detective looked back to Logan with amusement.

"Logan? You think you'll live?"

Logan grimaced. "Yeah, I think so. Not that you'd give a damn, Munch."

Munch smirked. "I'm wounded, Logan."

Logan snorted derisively in reply. Munch chuckled and got back up.

"He'll be fine. Someone had better get to the stairs, though."

"The stairs?" Craig echoed, puzzled. Olivia nodded.

"Detective Stabler found Detective Eames unconscious in the stairwell. He thinks she was pushed down the stairs, probably by the same scum that just tried to kill Detective Goren."

Craig nodded, already on her way out the door.

"I'll go immediately."

Once she'd gone, Olivia looked around to see Fin had gone to the bedside and was watching Bobby intently.

"That's it, then," he said. "There ain't gonna be a trial. Matic took a plea bargain, Richie's gonna go to a high security psyche hospital and Cozza's dead."

"It's not all bad," Olivia murmured. "No trial means Bobby will never have to testify against his brother. That's something, at least."

"The real question," Munch pointed out, "is whether he's actually going to be better off for it. We see it all the time. Rape victims who are able to face up to their attackers in court often survive better than those who don't."

"Gee, aren't you all sweetness and light," Logan retorted.

"I'm right, though," Munch argued. Olivia looked back at him, watching out of the corner of her eye as a wheelchair was brought in to take Logan down to the ER for treatment.

"Maybe, but let's not make assumptions just yet." She paused, watching as Logan was taken off to have his injuries taken care of, before heading to the door herself.

"C'mon. Let's call Cragen, and get this wrapped up."

* * *

_tbc..._


	21. Aftershocks

Cragen arrived at St Clare's just over half an hour after getting the call from Olivia telling him what had transpired. He soon found his detectives gathered in a cubicle in the ER, with Mike Logan.

"Logan," Cragen greeted him with a bemused look. "Have you been pissing people off again?"

Logan managed a lop-sided grin that did little to mask the pain he was in.

"It's what I live for, Captain."

Cragen gave a short laugh.

"Don't I know it. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah," Logan answered. "I'm a lot worse than… I am… I mean…"

"He's got a concussion from where Cozza hit him in the head," Olivia interrupted, barely smothering a grin at Logan's befuddled reply. "The bullet wound is a through-and-through, and he's got a broken rib and wrist. They're going to admit him and keep him here for a few days, just to monitor for infection."

Cragen nodded.

"Well," he said to Logan, "it'll certainly keep you out of trouble."

"Hilarious," Logan groaned, drawing amused grins from his colleagues. Cragen smirked right back at him, and then returned his attention to Olivia.

"Where's Elliot?"

"Four cubicles down, waiting with Alex," she answered. "She's pretty badly concussed. She took a really bad knock to the head."

"Anything broken?" Cragen wondered.

"Nah, she was lucky there," Fin interjected. "They're going to do x-rays and scans, just to be sure, but they're pretty certain that nothing's broken."

"Is she awake yet?" Cragen asked.

"Not yet. That's why Elliot is waiting with her. Then, when she does wake up, someone will be there to tell her that Bobby is okay, and that Cozza is dead." Olivia paused, and then spoke again slowly. "I'm sorry, Captain. He didn't give me a choice."

"It's okay," Cragen reassured her. "You did what you had to do, Olivia. You won't have any trouble with IAD, I'll make sure of it."

"Feds aren't going to be happy with us," Fin retorted, sounding anything but repentant.

"Don't worry about the FBI, either," Cragen told them. "You'll all be interested to know that I spoke to the Director of the New York office just before coming here."

"Oh?" Munch asked. "What did he have to say?"

"Quite a bit, actually, but I'll spare you the intricate details. It turns out that he was kept in the dark about the plans that Cozza, Matic and Richie Goren were making in prison. He told me that if he had known, he would never have authorised Cozza's release, and he would have informed Jim Deakins immediately."

"Gee, won't that just make Goren feel _so_ much better," Munch sneered. Cragen shot him a warning look before going on.

"He didn't know about it, and he didn't know that Cozza had slipped the net and gone AWOL. He's just as angry over it as we are. He's already suspended the agents involved, pending an investigation. He's also asked me to organise for all the bills for Goren, Logan and Eames' medical expenses to be forwarded to his office."

"Well," Olivia conceded grudgingly, "that's something, at least."

"And one other thing," Cragen added, less enthusiastically this time. "He asked that we pass on his personal apology to Goren. He said the attack should never have been allowed to get past the planning stages in prison."

"Oh, that really _will_ make Goren feel better," Fin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Cragen nodded.

"I know, I know. But it's a pretty big improvement, considering the crap we normally get from the FBI."

Hey," Logan spoke up abruptly, "sorry to interrupt your little tête-à-tête, but has anyone called Deakins yet? 'Cause he's gonna be pissed if you haven't."

Cragen looked just slightly uncomfortable at the reminder.

"I'll do that soon. I wanted to be able to tell him that you, Eames and Goren were all okay."

"Fine," Logan muttered, exhaustion from his injuries finally starting to overcome him. "Now, would you mind taking it somewhere else? You're all giving me a headache."

A smile quirked Cragen's lips.

"Okay, Mike. We'll let you rest. Just take it easy, and don't get yourself discharged too soon."

"Yes, Dad," Logan mumbled, already more than half asleep. Cragen grinned, and led his three detectives out of the cubicle, leaving Logan alone to get some much-needed rest.

* * *

Alex awoke to bright lights and a splitting pain in her face and skull. She groaned and tried to move, but hands on her shoulders kept her still. Gradually, her mind cleared and her memories began to filter back. Her last clear memory being…

Panic hit, and Alex tried again to sit up, but the hands on her shoulder pushed down more firmly still. She moaned again, struggling even harder, until a familiar voice cut through her distress.

"Alex, calm down. You're safe, and so is Bobby. Do you hear me, Alex? You're both okay."

Slowly, very slowly, Alex relaxed. Then, as she tried to look up, a tall figure moved around to block the bright lights that stung her eyes.

"Elliot…?" she mumbled dazedly. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"Hey. How's your head?"

"Hurts," she answered bluntly, in too much pain to even contemplate sarcasm. "Bobby's really okay?"

"He's okay," Elliot assured her. "I won't lie to you. Cozza got to him first… He managed to turn off the ventilator and it sent Bobby into cardiac arrest, but the doctors were fast. They were able to revive him pretty quickly. There was no harm done."

"Please, tell me you got him."

"More or less. Olivia took him out."

He fell silent, waiting patiently as his words sank in.

"Olivia took him… He's dead?"

"He tried to shoot her. She shot him first."

Alex sighed softly.

"Good. He can't hurt Bobby anymore, then."

"Alex, do you remember what happened?"

She was silent for nearly a minute while she tried to form a cohesive answer in her mind, and then put it into rational English.

"I was in the stairwell… Just needed a bit of privacy. Someone came up behind me… I thought it was Danny, but it wasn't. It was Cozza. He grabbed me, had me pinned to the wall. He said he had unfinished business with Bobby, and that he didn't want me getting in the way. Then he pushed me… I don't really remember anything after that, but he pushed me down the stairs, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did."

She started to reach up towards her face, but Elliot gently caught her wrist and pushed it back down.

"No, Alex, you won't want to be touching it. It's gonna hurt bad enough without doing that."

Alex moaned softly.

"Great." She fell momentarily silent before speaking again tensely. "Wasn't anyone with Bobby?"

"Logan was there…"

"Goddamn it," Alex whispered. "What the hell was he doing, napping?"

"Cut him some slack, Alex. He didn't go down without a fight. Cozza broke his wrist and one of his ribs, and shot him in the shoulder."

Alex's breath caught in her throat at the news.

"Is he okay?"

"He will be. He's gonna be stuck in a hospital bed for the next few days, just like you…"

"What? No, I can't. I have to be with Bobby…"

"Stop worrying about Bobby," Elliot ordered her, his voice taking on a distinct edge. "He'll be okay. We'll make sure someone's with him when he wakes up. If I need to, I'll stay with him myself."

Tears filled Alex's eyes.

"Then you'd have more loyalty than his cousin."

Elliot started a little in surprise.

"What do you mean?"

"Danny's gone," Alex said bitterly. "His boss called him, and he's gone running back home to Washington."

"Ah, crap," Elliot muttered. "That's just great. Look, Alex, I'll stay with Bobby myself, okay? I promise I won't leave him alone."

"I just don't want him to wake up with that… that tube down his throat… and for there not to be anyone there that he knows… anyone that he trusts. He trusts you, Elliot. That… That's a big thing at the moment."

Elliot nodded.

"I know it is. I promise you that I'll look out for him, if you promise me that you'll stay put and let yourself be looked after. You had a bad fall, Alex. You're not going to be able to just pretend it didn't happen. Trust me, you're going to really feel it tomorrow morning."

"I don't doubt that," Alex muttered ruefully. "And I bet I'll look a treat, too." She paused, and then asked tensely, "Has anyone called Deakins yet? He's going to hit the roof when he finds out…"

"Cragen will take care of that. Just stop worrying, okay?"

Alex slumped back gloomily against the pillows.

"Easier said than done, Elliot," she said softly.

* * *

Deakins came to a halt in front of St Clare's Hospital, looking up at the building with a weariness that seemed be trying to drain the last dregs of his energy. He had been back and forth between this place and One Police Plaza so many times over the last few days, that he had lost track completely.

Now, he was back again, having gotten a call from Don Cragen less than an hour after he arrived back at the Major Case headquarters. Richard Chops Cozza had turned up at the hospital, attacked Alex and Mike Logan, and then tried to kill Bobby.

According to Cragen, all three were okay. Alex had been shoved down a flight of stairs, but there were no broken bones, just a bad knock to the head and nasty concussion. Logan was slightly worse for wear, having suffered a bad blow to the head, a broken rib, a broken wrist and a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Again, though, it was nothing life threatening. Logan would need some recuperation time, but he was going to be fine.

And then there was Bobby.

Deakins felt sick to his stomach. Cozza had gotten to Bobby by going through Logan, according to Cragen. He'd pulled the plug on the ventilator, which had sent Bobby into cardiac arrest. The doctors had reacted promptly, reviving Bobby and restarting the ventilator, but it was a scare that none of them needed.

As for Cozza, he was no longer a danger to anyone, shot dead by Olivia Benson.

A grim smile touched Deakins' lips as he made his way back into the hospital. He'd been angry at Olivia for her attitude towards Bobby, but he found himself feeling immensely grateful to her for dealing with Cozza in such a decisive manner. There was one piece of scum who would never hurt anyone again, especially Bobby.

He made his way through to the ER, and found Cragen waiting for him in the waiting room.

"Jim," Cragen greeted him. Deakins looked past him into the ER.

"Where are they? Where are Eames and Logan?"

"Eames has been taken for x-rays," Cragen told him. "Logan is in cubicle three, if you want to see him."

Deakins nodded. Yes, he wanted to see Logan, but not until he had some reassurance.

"And Goren?"

Cragen smiled ruefully. He knew instinctively what Deakins meant, and was well prepared with an answer.

"Elliot went up to sit with him, once Eames was awake. Don't worry, Jim. We won't leave him alone."

Deakins sighed softly.

"Thankyou. I'm sorry, Don, but the thought of him waking up with that tube down his throat…"

"Eames said much the same to Elliot. Don't worry. We've got it covered."

"Okay," Deakins conceded. "Thankyou. I'll go and see Logan, then."

"All right. And don't be too harsh on him, Jim. He didn't exactly just step aside and let Cozza do what he liked."

Deakins paused on his way past Cragen, looking back at the other captain with a slightly puzzled look.

"You think I was planning on ripping into him?"

"According to Elliot, Eames would have, given half the chance. And, you have to admit, you are a little sensitive over anything to do with Goren at the moment."

For a split second, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Cragen was sure he'd just made a huge verbal blunder. To his surprise, though, Deakins smiled tiredly.

"I guess I am, aren't I? I'm sorry, Don, but I can't help that."

"I understand," Cragen assured him, privately relieved that his tactless choice of words hadn't resulted in another explosion. "Go and see Logan. And by the time you finish with him, Eames will probably be out of x-ray."

Deakins nodded appreciatively, and disappeared through the doors into the ER.

* * *

Logan was dozing, slipping in an out of consciousness. He was unaware of pretty much anything happening around him, until a hand alighted on his uninjured arm, and a familiar voice spoke.

"You know, Logan, if you really didn't want to come to Major Case, you only had to say so."

A single eye opened to peer at Deakins, and then Logan groaned softly.

"Yeah, sure. I got myself shot, and got a broken wrist and ribs just because I couldn't stomach the thought of leaving Staten Island."

Deakins smiled appreciatively at Logan's sardonic humour.

"How _are_ you feeling, Logan? Seriously."

"Seriously? I'm feeling seriously like crap. I'm sorry, Captain."

"For what?"

"For letting you down. I let that son of a bitch get to Bobby."

"Well, from what I've been told, and what I'm looking at right now, I figure that I ought to be thanking you."

Logan shook his head.

"I never even looked around when the door opened. One moment I was standing there beside the bed, and the next I was on the floor with a cracked head, broken ribs and a broken wrist."

Deakins nodded slowly.

"Okay. So what did you do then? Just lie on the floor and watch Cozza?"

"No! I tried to get up, but he'd taken my gun off me. I got up and tried to tackle him, but he shot me first."

The captain smiled reassuringly at Logan.

"You risked your life to stop Cozza, and you think I should be angry with you? What sort of medication have they got you doped up on, Logan?"

Logan fell silent, looking suddenly baffled that he'd scuttled his own argument. Deakins chuckled softly.

"Bobby is going to be fine. The doctors got to him in time to revive him. Now, I just want you to rest, and focus on healing up, because I promise you that the moment you're up to it, I'm going to have you in Major Case working your ass off. You hear me, Logan?"

A crooked smile found its way onto Logan's face, gratitude mixed with a hefty dose of relief. Though exactly what he was relieved over, Deakins didn't know and wasn't going to ask.

"Loud and clear, Captain."

Deakins nodded, satisfied.

"Good."

* * *

Deakins found he had nearly twenty minutes to wait before Alex was finally returned to the ER from X-Ray. She was accompanied by the doctor, who threw Deakins a questioning look.

"Are you her father…?"

Despite the situation, Deakins couldn't fight the grin that found its way onto his face. Lying on the gurney, Alex moaned aloud.

"God, if that gets out, I'll never live it down."

"Watch it, Detective," Deakins told her in a mock stern voice. "I'm the one who ought to be insulted at the inference that I'm old enough to be your father."

Alex mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'bite me' to Deakins, but he chose to ignore it.

"Sorry," the doctor apologised, a sheepish smile on his face. "I didn't mean to upset the balance. You'll be happy to know, though, that there is definitely nothing broken, although she's going to be very sore for a couple of weeks. We'll keep her in overnight, but she should be fine to go home tomorrow, provided she gets plenty of rest."

Deakins shook his head in bemusement.

"In that case, you may as well set up a bed for her upstairs in ICU, with Detective Goren. Because I can tell you right now that nothing anyone says or does is going to drag her away from him."

The doctor looked at Alex apprehensively before shrugging.

"Well, I suppose there's no reason why she can't come to the hospital each day, but no driving for at least a week, preferably two. That eye is going to be closed over completely by tomorrow morning, and even after it does open up again, you're going to have a magnificent black eye."

"Badge of honour," Deakins offered, trying not to laugh out loud at the sour look on her face at learning she couldn't drive. Alex grunted.

"Yeah, right. I might have been willing to believe that if I'd actually fought back."

Deakins' smile faded, and he looked across at the doctor.

"Would you mind, Doctor…?"

The doctor nodded and left the cubicle, taking care to draw the curtains as he went.

"Don't say it," Alex said as Deakins turned back to her.

"Don't say what, Alex? That you didn't do anything wrong? That none of what's happened is your fault? That I'm thanking God that you're still here? He could have killed you, Alex. He could have killed Logan, and he could have killed Bobby. Do you have any idea how hard and fast my heart is beating right now?"

She looked up at him with her one good eye, which was rapidly blurring with tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and in that moment Deakins understood that she was, in fact, apologising not to him but to Bobby. She honestly believed that she had let her partner down. "He could have killed Bobby," she went on in a strained voice. "You said it yourself. I should have been more watchful, but I wasn't. I let him down again…"

Deakins felt his heart tighten almost painfully, and he leaned down to envelope her in a gentle, paternal hug.

"How can you think that, Alex?" he asked as she broke down and cried softly into his shoulder. "You've never let him down, not once. When he's able to, I know he'll tell you the same. All of this…? It wasn't your fault. I know without a doubt that if you'd had any idea that something was wrong that night, then you would have been there to help him in an instant. You don't have anything to feel sorry for."

"Then why do I feel like I do?" she choked out. Deakins rubbed her back gently, aware of the bruises that were already coming up on her body from the fall she'd had.

"I know," he murmured. "I feel the same."

"I… I don't want to be like this in front of him," she sobbed. "I need to be strong for him."

"I know," Deakins agreed quietly. "But that just makes it all the more important to be honest with each other. You don't have to be strong in front of me, Alex. I already know you're strong."

Alex only shuddered violently in answer to his gentle words, and began to cry in earnest.

* * *

_tbc..._

_A/N:_ Well, I've completed a climax for the story, only to realise there is so much more to write. We'll just have to see where the story takes us from here...


	22. Going Home

_A/N:_ My muse tells me it's high time I got Bobby out of the hospital and started dealing with the emotional traumas. So here we go…

* * *

_A month later_

Bobby sat in silence by the open window, his face slightly raised to the cool breeze that was blowing. Right at that moment, he was alone. Alex was due to arrive any time, but right then he was alone. There was a time when he might have taken comfort in solitude, but not anymore. Now, he craved company more than he was capable of expressing.

The last month had been hard on him, harder than he had ever imagined life could be. It seemed that even his childhood and teen years spent trying to anticipate his mother's next departure from reality couldn't compare to this.

He said nothing, though. When Alex was with him… or even Deakins, or Logan… or anyone who came to see him, for that matter… he said nothing of the loneliness that was eating away at his soul. A deep part of him wanted to beg them not to leave him when visiting hours ended, but he said nothing.

Stoic. Silent. Stupid.

He shifted away from the window abruptly and got slowly to his feet, making his way carefully back to his bed. His doctor had found a specialist, a cosmetic surgeon who was skilled enough to surgically open his eyes, but that specialist would not be available for another three weeks. That was fine, his doctor had assured him. It would just allow for that much more recovery time.

Bobby had been less enthusiastic about the wait. The delay meant that even though the hospital was ready to discharge him, he still required around the clock care, and help in achieving the most basic of tasks, like feeding himself.

More than that, though, on a deeper level, he feared that when the bandages did finally come off his eyes, he would find himself to be permanently blinded.

Between his sightless eyes and his broken hands, Bobby had found himself to be rendered almost completely helpless. It was a sickening feeling, and he was terrified that it was a condition that could become permanent.

Bobby was hurting, and he was frightened. It was as simple, and as complicated, as that.

Unwittingly, Bobby found himself once more recalling the moments of his awakening after suffering respiratory failure, shortly after the encouraging visit from Maggie Coulter.

He remembered with acute misery waking up to find a tube down his throat. He remembered waking up to find the ability to speak had been cruelly taken from him, leaving him unable to communicate with anyone in any way. It had very nearly been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, being rendered so utterly and completely helpless. No sight, no touch, and then no voice. In fact, the only thing that had kept him from sliding into oblivion right then and there had been Elliot Stabler.

With a fresh wave of gratitude, Bobby recalled once more that moment of awakening.

He had been confused… scared… hurting. Before he'd had the chance to panic, though, there was a voice speaking to him, demanding his attention with an authority that he could not ignore. Slowly, his distress faded, and he finally recognised the voice as belonging to Elliot Stabler.

"Calm down, Bobby," he'd said firmly. "You've gotta stay calm. Now, I know you can't talk, and that you must be pretty frightened, so I want you to listen to me. Listen to my voice, okay? I'll tell you what's happened, but you've gotta stay calm, 'cause if you panic, you'll have that doctor back in here to sedate you again."

Bobby answered Elliot's words with absolute silence.

"Okay," Elliot murmured, noting that Bobby was making a conscious effort to stay calm and still. "Now, before I tell you anything, I'm gonna say this. Eames and Logan are both okay. There was no last damage. Okay?"

Bobby felt himself tense despite Elliot's reassurances. The SVU detective went on quickly, aware of Bobby's reaction.

"First of all, the reason you can't talk is because you went into respiratory arrest, and they had to put a tube down your throat to get you breathing again. It's only temporary, though, until your lungs are strong enough to cope.

"Secondly, Chops Cozza got into the hospital. He shoved Eames down the stairs, but she's okay. No broken bones, or anything like that. She just has a lot of bruises, a concussion and a very pissed off attitude. She was not very happy about being admitted to hospital, even just overnight."

If Bobby could have smiled, he would have. That was his Alex. Cozza could have shot her, and she wouldn't have let it stop her. Elliot continued to speak, sensing the way Bobby had relaxed just slightly. He knew he'd said the right thing.

"Logan's a little worse for wear. Cozza went through him like a locomotive… Broke the guy's wrist, and one of his ribs, and shot him in the shoulder. He's gonna be sore for a while, but he'll be okay as well. As for you… Bobby, Cozza managed to pull the plug on your ventilator. It put you into cardiac arrest, but the doctors were fast and they revived you straight away. There wasn't any damage done."

Bobby lay still, and Elliot noticed he'd tensed up again. He went on, hoping his next piece of news would ease his colleague's mind somewhat.

"I've got something else to tell you, Bobby. I don't know whether you're going to be happy about this or not, but Cozza is dead. He pulled a gun on Olivia as he was trying to make a break for it, and she shot him dead. He's never going to be able to hurt you or anyone else ever again."

Even if he had been able to speak, Bobby had no words to express his gratitude and relief for that information, although his relief was tempered by the knowledge that Alex and Mike had both been hurt.

He had fully expected Elliot to abandon him at that point, to just walk out and leave him alone once more. It hadn't happened. In what had perhaps been the one action that had kept Bobby from tipping over the edge of outright panic, Elliot had then picked up _Moby Dick_ off the bedside table, found where Alex had been up to, and started reading.

The gesture had been unexpected, and more welcome than was within Bobby's power to express. Slowly, the lilting tone of Elliot's voice calmed and soothed his frayed nerves. He had eventually fallen asleep again to the sound of Elliot describing Ishmael's first impressions of Captain Ahab.

Over the next seventy-two hours, Bobby's waking moments had been filled with the sound of various people, some more than a little unexpected, taking it in turns to read to him. First Elliot, then Olivia. Next was Fin Tutuola, and then John Munch. And if he had been surprised to have Deakins sitting there reading to him, he was downright stunned when Ron Carver came in and took a shift.

A small smile passed fleetingly over Bobby's face at the memory. While he had enjoyed listening to each visitor read to him, being able to listen to Carver's silken voice weave the tale and bring it to life in his mind's eye had truly been a treat.

The tube had come out nearly four days after he'd gone into respiratory arrest. His breathing was perhaps a little shallower than his doctor liked, but he _was_ breathing on his own. His relief at having vocal ability restored to him was enormous, and kept him buoyed and almost happy… until it suddenly occurred to him to ask where Danny was.

By that time, Alex had returned to his side on an almost twenty-four hour basis, foo-fooing his concerns about her injuries. Just bruises, she'd insisted. No more, no less. She was fine, and he wasn't to worry himself about her.

At first, Alex had tried to deflect his questions about Danny but eventually, with extreme reluctance, she'd told him that Danny had had to return home, under duress from his boss, and didn't know when he would be back.

Bobby had taken the news hard. He had trusted his cousin to stay with him, and to learn he had bolted back home without even staying long enough to tell him directly stung badly.

The rest of that month had run to a similar course, jerking him up and down like an emotional yo-yo. At some point, he couldn't remember what, Don Cragen and Casey Novak had come in to speak to him. Deakins and Logan had been there at the time, having talked Alex into going home to get some rest. Not that Logan was much better off, Bobby remembered thinking. Every time the guy moved, he grunted in pain.

Casey had gone on to explain that Simon Matic had taken a plea bargain for the assault, rape and attempted murder, guaranteeing him life in prison. Bobby had listened in absolute silence. He was relieved to know that Matic would be locked away permanently, but at the same time he couldn't help feeling cheated. He said nothing, though, waiting to hear about his brother.

He recalled with a fresh and acute pain the words that Cragen had spoken to him. Richie had suffered a major psychotic break in prison, and three separate and independent assessments had each come to the same conclusion; severe paranoid schizophrenia. As soon as arrangements could be made, Richie would be institutionalised indefinitely by direct court order.

So Cozza was dead, Matic was going to prison for life after negotiating a deal to keep the death penalty off the table, and Richie was likely to spend the rest of his life in a high security psychiatric institute.

Bobby had been unreachable for the rest of the day while he struggled to come to grips with the realisation that he would never face his attackers in court. It hurt far more than he had ever imagined it might, and even after hours of wrestling with it in his mind, and trying to justify the end result he still couldn't get his head around it. Even now, when he tried to reconcile everything, it quickly became too much, and he was forced to rapidly redirect his chain of thought.

He didn't want to have to think about it, talk about it or even remember it. Not any of it. It just hurt too damned much.

And yet, despite his best efforts, he was constantly faced with reminders of his bleak situation. One such reminder was due to arrive at any moment.

Granted, that wasn't Alex's fault. But, inadvertently, she still served as a reminder to him of all that had been so cruelly stripped away from him. His belongings… His home… His independence.

Alex was coming today to take him home. After just over a month of intensive hospital care he knew he should have been happy to leave the hospital, but any happiness or relief he may have felt was severely dampened by the knowledge that the home he was going to was not his own.

His own apartment had been thoroughly cleaned, and he didn't doubt that assurance from Mack Taylor, but the hard truth was that he didn't think he would ever be able to set foot in that place again.

His biggest problem right then lay in the fact that he was not likely to receive any sort of financial compensation for what he'd been through. He knew for a fact that Richie had no money hidden away anywhere.

Cozza more than likely had nothing. He'd spent most of his time as a lackey to the biggest crime families of New York, and had been caught for murder before he'd been able to inherit the empire he'd spent so much time manipulating so many people for. The odds that he had anything worth suing for were laughable.

Out of his three attackers, Simon Matic was the only one that Bobby suspected might have any significant amount of money stashed away somewhere. If he did, though, Bobby doubted he would ever have the chance to see any of it. Wherever Matic had his money stashed, if indeed he did have anything, it was probably hidden away somewhere untouchable.

The only money that would possibly be coming to him would be from the sale of his apartment, and that was going to take a lot of time. Bobby was under no illusions that his apartment would be an easy sell. No one was going to be eager to buy an apartment where a cop had been violently assaulted and raped. So yes, it was going to take time.

And meanwhile, between the money going to pay for his mother's ongoing care at Carmel Ridge, and the money now going to pay for his own with a home care nurse, he couldn't afford to rent a new place, let alone buy one.

That was where Alex had more or less come to his rescue. He didn't remember exactly when he had voiced his worries about where he would go after leaving hospital, or even whom he had voiced those worries to, but a bit less than a week ago, Alex had suddenly announced that he would be coming to live with her. Though nothing had been said, going by Mike's stoic silence and the strange noises that were coming from Deakins, Bobby suspected it had been a hotly debated subject. He wasn't the least bit surprised that Alex had come out on top.

She hadn't asked him whether he was okay with the arrangement. She had simply told him that that was what was happening. He had to admit he'd been annoyed at first, but given time to consider his situation, in the end he'd had to concede. It was a logical solution and, after all, where else did he have to go? There was nowhere he _could_ go, and that was the miserable truth.

He had queried whether she had the room for him, pointing out that her apartment was only a single bedroom apartment. She, in turn, had reminded him that it was, in fact, a two bedroom apartment, and that she'd used the second bedroom as storage space for the entire time she'd lived there. She had told him that a bunch of guys from Major Case and SVU had gotten together and helped her to completely clean the room out. A king sized bed had been procured from somewhere… from someone's cousin's brother's friend's something or other… dismantled, and put together again inside the room. The room had then been furnished simply with a chest of drawers and a bedside table, and the closet had been completely emptied.

Not that he had anything to fill it with, Bobby reflected glumly. All but a select few items of clothing had been ruined by Matic and Cozza, and he had very little left to fill a chest of drawers, let alone a closet.

He actually felt embarrassed that Alex had gone to such lengths for him, but when he'd tried to say so, she had simply hugged him and pointed out that he would have done exactly the same for her, had their situations been reversed. It was with some effort that he'd avoided pointing out that she had family to look after her, and he wouldn't have needed to go to those lengths.

She was right, though, he thought in retrospect. He would have done anything for her had she been the one to be hurt. And so, he'd accepted her kindness and generosity with good grace. Now, he awaited her arrival with a mixture of eagerness and anxiety. Eager to be out of the hospital, but filled with anxiety at what awaited him beyond those sanctuary walls.

"Hey, you. Still in bed? I half expected to find you waiting for me in the car park."

Bobby smiled faintly in token appreciation of his partner's humour as she walked into his room. He felt less like smiling lately, but still tried to smile at her gentle teasing.

"I'm dressed," he admitted. "Just need help… with my shoes."

She didn't bother suggesting that he just put on the slippers that she had bought for him two weeks ago, when he'd finally been able to get up and start moving around. It was going to be hard enough on him that he would have to leave the hospital in a wheelchair. She had no intention of forcing him to suffer any further indignities, no matter how trivial they might have appeared to be.

"Fair enough," she agreed aloud. "Are you ready to go?"

Bobby hesitated in answering.

"There aren't a lot of people here, are there?"

Alex smiled faintly. She and Captain Deakins had anticipated that Bobby would want a quiet and discreet exit from the hospital. It wasn't so much that he didn't want any of his colleagues around, than that he simply wanted to avoid the journalists who had descended on the story of his assault in an absolute frenzy, once the story had actually been released to the media. With that in mind, it had been 'leaked' to various newspapers and media outlets that Bobby was due to be released from the hospital a full three days later than he actually was in an effort to throw them off. It seemed to have worked, too. When she'd arrived ten minutes ago, there were no journalists anywhere in sight.

"No journalists to be seen," she promised him. "And it's just Captain Deakins, Captain Cragen, Elliot and Olivia who are out there. That's all, I promise."

Bobby sighed faintly with relief.

"Okay," he murmured. "I guess I'm ready, then."

"It's going to be okay, Bobby," Alex reassured him as he allowed her to put slip his shoes onto his feet and lace them up. "A few more weeks, and you'll be able to have that last operation so you can see again, and in the meantime you've got me to wait on you hand and foot. What more could a guy ask for?"

Bobby shifted, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I… I don't want you to do that, Alex. You… You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to," she told him firmly. "But I _want_ to. You're my partner, Bobby, and you're my best friend. Let me take care of you, okay?"

It took more than a little bit of effort for Bobby not to grimace at her words. He understood what she meant, but that didn't make the reality any less harsh. The fact that he needed taking care of at all hurt badly, not to mention the level of humility he'd had to endure so far, and would have to continue to endure.

No one who came to see him seemed to understand the embarrassment he suffered everyday in needing someone to feed him, because his hands were still unusable. No one seemed to understand his embarrassment at having to lie there while a nurse stripped him off and bathed him with a sponge, or took him into the shower and washed him. Apparently, according to Logan and various other male colleagues, he was supposed to enjoy _that_.

Worst of all, no one seemed to understand his utter humiliation that he needed assistance for a task as basic as using the toilet.

As much as he wanted his eyesight back, he wanted the use of his hands back so much more.

Now, he was going home to Alex's apartment, being passed from the care of the hospital into her care, and into that of a home care nurse. He was going from being taken care of like a helpless baby in the hospital, to being taken care of like a helpless baby in another person's home.

He hated it, more than he could ever express.

* * *

Alex finished tying the laces on his shoes, and gently took his arm as he stood up. He didn't object, although she couldn't miss the way he tensed slightly at her touch. She didn't let go, though, until he was safely seated in the waiting wheelchair.

She had been warned by both Bobby's doctor and the psychiatrist in whose care he'd been placed not to expect perfect acquiescence or cooperation from him. There were going to be difficult times ahead, and a lot of them. He was still hurting, and there was still so much from the attack that he had yet to face, things that he might not have even remembered yet. She had also been warned that she needed to be conscious of his obvious frustration at his physical helplessness, that he might, at times, lash out at her verbally and say things he didn't really mean.

Alex bit back a sigh. She _knew_ all of that already. It wasn't anything she needed to be reminded of by any shrink. She knew Bobby would be difficult to cope with, that his moods were likely to swing up and down wildly, and that there were times when he would be downright intolerable. She didn't need some professional busybody to remind her that taking Bobby into her care like this was a daunting, terrifying prospect.

In her opinion, the bottom line was that there had been no other option. Of course, that hadn't stopped Deakins from arguing the point with her. He thought it was a bad idea, and he'd continued to argue until she'd rounded on him and asked what brilliant solution he had in mind, and whether he was planning on taking Bobby in himself.

That had brought Deakins up short. He knew as well as she did that Bobby had nowhere else to go, and no one else to turn to. He couldn't stay in the hospital indefinitely, but at the same time, where was he supposed to go? He had to be somewhere that he could be properly looked after, and there were simply no other options.

Still Deakins had expressed misgivings, though, until a week ago. A week ago, Alex's parents returned from their vacation, and had quickly turned up at the hospital after hearing from Philip about what had happened.

A small smile touched Alex's lips as she remembered her parents' arrival at Bobby's hospital room when she had been in the middle of yet another argument with Deakins over the wisdom of her having Bobby in her apartment. Deakins had told John Eames the basics, assuming John would side with him. Alex recalled the exchange that had resulted with a smug satisfaction that, even now, she couldn't completely hide.

"_Let me get this straight," John had said after Deakins had quickly explained to him a heavily biased version of what was going on. "Bobby is due to be discharged from the hospital in about a week, but he has nowhere to go, and he's going to need almost around the clock care. My little girl here has offered her home to him until he can find somewhere new to live, and you think that's a bad idea, Jim?"_

_Deakins had looked more than a little put out, much to Alex's satisfaction. _

"_John, Alex needs to understand what she's taking on here…"_

"_I think she probably already has a pretty good idea of that, Jim. Bobby is her partner and I've no doubt he'd do the same for her. As for shouldering the responsibility alone… Well, she's not alone, is she? She has me and her mother, and her brother and sister to help her, and to help Bobby. That boy is as much a part of our family now as Alex is, Jim, and we **will** take care of him, I promise you that."_

Deakins had been flummoxed into silence and was left standing there in the hallway, still confounded, while Alex took her parents in to visit with her partner. She had no words to express the gratitude she felt for their support, both of her and of Bobby. She would always be grateful that they seemed to understand that she needed to be able to take care of Bobby, that there was no one else who could fill that responsibility. That he trusted no one else to do that for him. And in the end, _that_ was the bottom line. Bobby trusted her alone.

She wheeled him carefully out of the room, taking care not to move too quickly, or to make any sudden turns. His blindness had had the unfortunate side effect of causing him to suffer sporadic spells of vertigo, usually brought on when he tried to do anything too quickly.

Deakins, Cragen, Olivia and Elliot were waiting a little ways down the corridor, and they all stood up as Alex guided the wheelchair towards them.

"Finally getting out of here, huh?" Olivia said, trying to keep her voice cheerful, without overdoing it.

"Yeah," Bobby murmured, sounding less than enthusiastic.

"Just think," Elliot said. "You can look forward to a home-cooked meal tonight. Not the usual hospital slop."

Bobby didn't respond to that, and so Alex responded for him.

"I'll say. Last I heard, Dad was cooking up a storm."

Bobby's head turned slightly.

"I don't want anyone going to extra trouble for me. I mean… more than they already have."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Bobby," Deakins told him with a wry smile. "You ought to know Alex's dad when it comes to cooking."

Alex laughed softly. "The more people he gets to cook for, the happier he is. And he told me that there was no way that he was letting Bobby settle for tinned soup or a TV dinner on his first night out of the hospital."

Again, Bobby said nothing, and Alex could sense his embarrassment at the fuss that was being made of him. He didn't like the attention, he never had.

"Listen, Bobby," Elliot told him quietly as they reached the lifts, "'Liv and I won't be able to come around to see you so often now, but if you feel like talking at all, about anything, just call us. Okay? Any time, pal, don't think twice about it. You've got our numbers."

Bobby nodded.

"Thanks," he mumbled. Elliot laid a hand gently on his shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly.

"Any time, Bobby," he reiterated. "Day or night, I don't care. I mean that."

Olivia caught the incredulous looks that both Deakins and Cragen were throwing at her and Elliot, and she smiled reassuringly at them. Elliot's gesture was genuine. He wanted Bobby to know that he _could_ call him, whenever he wanted. He wanted Bobby to know that there were people he could turn to, who wouldn't turn their backs on him.

They reached the main entrance of the hospital and, as promised, there was not a single journalist in sight. Alex favoured Deakins with a grateful look before setting the brakes on the wheelchair and helping Bobby to get up.

"The car's right here," she murmured, nodding in acknowledgement to Olivia as she held the door of the SUV open to ensure it didn't swing shut on him by accident. Bobby climbed in slowly, and then waited in silence as Alex did up the seatbelt. Once she'd stepped away, Deakins moved in to speak briefly to him.

"I might come by tomorrow afternoon to see how you're doing, Bobby, okay?"

Bobby nodded wordlessly. He was feeling embarrassed yet again by all the attention that was focused on him, and he wished vehemently that Alex would just get in, so that they could go. Sensing his growing discomfort, Alex decided it was time to take charge, and marched around to the driver's side of the vehicle.

"Okay, it's high time I got this boy home. I think he's had enough pomp and fanfare for one day."

Bobby's cheeks flushed slightly red at her words, but nor could he hide the small smile that curled up the corners of his mouth at her attitude. Deakins chuckled softly, taking the hint and stepping away from the SUV.

"Okay. Get going, you two. Alex, I'll talk to you about coming back to work when I come around tomorrow."

Alex nodded and, without wasting anymore time, she guided the car back out onto the road, to begin the journey home.

* * *

"How _are _you feeling?" she asked quietly, once they were away from the hospital. Bobby hesitated in answering. She was talking about more than how he felt physically, and he wasn't sure he could put it into words.

"Nervous," he said finally, simply. Alex nodded. She could understand that.

"Jo's already at the apartment," she said, switching subjects smoothly. Bobby's head turned towards her just slightly at the mention of the home care nurse that had been employed to assist with taking care of him.

"I didn't think she was going to be there until tomorrow."

"She wasn't supposed to be, but she thought it might be easier on us both if she was there tonight. She said it's no extra charge. It's on her."

Bobby sighed softly, relieved. He'd been worried for the last week about how he was going to manage the first night at Alex's apartment, with it being just the two of them. He really hadn't looked forward to needing Alex's help to get changed into his pyjamas… or to use the bathroom. Knowing that Jo was there took a tremendous load off his mind.

"Is… Is your dad really… cooking up a storm?"

Alex smiled faintly.

"Unfortunately, I think he is. But don't worry. He's not going to be insulted if you can't eat very much. He just wanted to make sure you weren't coming home to plain old soup and toast which, as you well know, is my specialty after TV dinners."

Bobby's smile widened a little, and Alex gave a silent cheer. He smiled so rarely anymore, that it was a real victory to get a genuine one out of him.

"I… wouldn't have minded."

"What? Soup and toast? Or a TV dinner?"

"Either."

She snorted.

"Are you kidding me, Bobby? Dad would've drawn and quartered me. You can't imagine the argument I had with him over it. I should've known better, actually. Never get into an argument with my dad."

He laughed softly, then, and Alex felt her own face light up in response.

"Anyway," she went on, "I promise you won't have to deal with the whole family. At least, not tonight. Mom was going to bring the food over, though, so be prepared for her to fuss over you. I tried to tell her that she didn't have to be there when we get home, but she insisted."

Bobby smiled somewhat wistfully.

"I don't mind. I like your mom."

Alex caught the look on his face, and mentally kicked herself for bringing up the subject. Bobby's own mother had not been back to see him since that day in the hospital, and apparently she had suffered a fairly bad episode just a day or two after visiting her son. The stress of knowing that her elder son had played a big part in Bobby's assault had been simply too much for her to cope with in the end. According to what Dr Shimo had told Deakins, by the time she came out of the episode, she'd effectively erased all memory of what had happened to Bobby from her mind. When Bobby had called her with the aid of a speaker phone, the day that he was moved out of the ICU wing and into a regular ward, she had placidly asked when he was coming to visit her next and it had been all Bobby could do to keep his voice even as he told her gently that it might be a while.

"It's okay, Alex," he said suddenly, startling her out of her reverie. She pulled a face.

"Am I that transparent?"

"Only to me," he teased lightly, and Alex laughed.

"Okay, then. I can live with that."

"Seriously, though, it's okay. Your mom, I mean. But… it will be _only_ her, won't it? No one else?"

Alex nodded, and then spoke quickly as she reminded herself that he couldn't see her nodding.

"No one else, Bobby. I promise."

* * *

Alex's stomach was in knots for the rest of the trip home. After reassuring Bobby that he would only have to cope with her mother, it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn't guarantee that half of her family wouldn't have turned up to welcome him home. She hoped and prayed that they would have all shown some consideration and stayed away, but she had no assurance that they actually would.

Her relief was palpable when she finally opened the door of her apartment to find only her mother and Jo Reilly, the home care nurse, waiting for them.

"Bobby, sweetheart, welcome home," Helen Eames greeted him as Alex guided him through the door. She smiled reassuringly at her daughter as she gently took his arm and led him over to the large armchair that John and Philip had brought around to Alex's apartment two days ago.

_Somewhere for the lad to sit_, John had stated firmly when Alex had expressed some doubt. _He's not going to want to be lying in bed all day, everyday. Not healthy for him._

Alex had quickly given up trying to argue. Once her father got an idea into his head, that was the end of it. She had to admit, though, as she watched Bobby settle into the large, comfortable chair, that it had been a damned good idea.

She deposited the small bag that held Bobby's few belongings in his room, and then re-emerged to find her mother fussing over Bobby, just as predicted.

"Hope you gave him fair warning to expect this," Jo said in a low voice, a wry smile on her face. Alex chuckled softly.

"It would have been cruel not to."

"How is he?" Jo asked, her smile fading as she observed her new charge.

"As good as can be expected," Alex murmured. "He's happy to be out of the hospital, but it hurts him that he doesn't have a home of his own to go back to."

"He's definitely going to go ahead with selling his apartment, then?"

"I don't think there was ever any other option. He can't go back there. He couldn't cope with it."

Jo leaned back against the doorframe.

"Everything's going to hurt for a long time, Alex. Inside and out. All we can do is make sure he knows he doesn't have deal with it alone."

"That's what worries me," Alex said ruefully. She elaborated when Jo looked at her, puzzled. "Bobby has always been a very solitary person. It's not easy for him to accept help under ordinary circumstances. This is just about killing him, having to be so completely dependent on others. If anything, he's likely to keep his emotional pain to himself specifically because he has no physical independence."

"It's going to be tough," Jo agreed quietly. "We'll get there, though. We just have to be patient with him. That's the key. Patience, and a lot of it."

"All right," Helen announced abruptly. "Enough chatter, you two. If you let dinner get cold, John will never let me hear the end of it."

"I… I'm not really hungry," Bobby ventured, but Helen brushed off his words.

"Nonsense. I know what hospital food is like. After more than a month of that, you ought to be nearly frantic for something decent. Now, come on. Up to the table with you."

"Mom!" Alex protested on behalf of her partner. "Give him a break. I agree that he needs to eat something, but he can stay right where he is." She strode past her mother, and crouched down beside him. "Bobby, are you comfortable there?"

He hesitated in answering. Yes, he was comfortable right at the moment, but it had been a while since he'd had any of his pain meds, and his hands were starting to hurt. A lot.

"Which is it," Alex asked, "hands or eyes?"

"Hands," he answered, a barely noticeable tremor to his voice. Jo acted promptly, picking up the bag which contained all of Bobby's medications. Finding the right bottle, she brought a single small pill over to him, along with a water bottle with a straw.

"Open up," she instructed him, her voice taking on a definite no-nonsense tone. He complied meekly, and she slipped the pill into his mouth, followed by the straw. He sipped at the water, and swallowed the pill with a small sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," he said in a soft, miserable voice as Jo took the bottle away. "I… I really don't think I can eat anything right now."

"It's okay," Helen reassured him. "It'll keep, honey. Meanwhile, I'd better get going. Bobby, sweetheart, if there's anything at all that you want, you tell Alex, and she'll let me know. All right?"

Bobby mumbled a quick thankyou, not quite sure how to react to Helen Eames' generosity and maternal concern. The elderly woman smiled sadly and, before Alex could stop her, leaned down to kiss him gently on the top of his head.

How Bobby kept himself from lashing out, Alex would never know. As it was, he stiffened noticeably at the unexpected touch, his body going rigid in the chair. Helen drew back abruptly, first looking startled, and then regretful. To Alex's quiet relief, though, she didn't shame Bobby further by trying to apologise to him. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, gave her daughter a fierce hug and then quietly let herself out.

"I… I'm sorry," Bobby whispered after the door had swung shut.

"Don't apologise," Alex told him. "You've got nothing to be sorry for, Bobby. Just tell us, what do you want to do?"

He drew in a shuddering breath. He hadn't imagined it would be so emotionally draining to actually leave the hospital.

"I think… I'd like to go to bed."

Alex nodded in understanding and sympathy.

"Okay, Bobby."

* * *

_tbc..._


	23. Promises

Alex lay awake long after midnight, staring into the darkness. In the end, the big homecoming had been something of a fizzer, although she would never have said that to Bobby. In all truth, she was just glad to have gotten him safely home, and she wasn't the least bit surprised that he'd opted to simply go to bed. That had been early in the evening, and Bobby had soon been sound asleep, looking more comfortable and more at ease than she had seen him for a long time.

Jo had stayed on until after ten o'clock, waiting long enough to wake Bobby up for his last meds of the day – a combination of painkillers and antibiotics, along with a herbal remedy that Dr Craig had recommended to help him sleep through the night. Then, only when he was sleeping soundly, did she finally leave.

Alex thanked God for Jo. She had been starting to despair of finding a suitable nurse that Bobby could afford. Most were unsuited to give the kind of care that Bobby needed, and those that were suited charged rates that she doubted even Donald Trump could afford.

She grimaced a little. The FBI had been willing enough to foot the bill for Bobby's hospital care, but their benevolence only extended so far. Once Bobby was out of the hospital, financially, he was on his own, and it was just about more than he could manage.

With less than a week to go before Bobby was due to be discharged, Alex had been starting to wonder whether she would have to look after Bobby herself. Then, she had gotten a call from thirty-seven year old Jo Reilly. Jo was a home care nurse by profession, fully qualified and with nearly fifteen years' experience under her belt.

A 'mutual friend' had contacted her, told her the basics of the job and asked her if she would be willing to take it on. Jo had agreed, on the condition that Bobby himself had a say in the decision.

After a positive conversation with Alex over the phone, Jo went to meet both her and Bobby in the hospital. There, the inevitable question was asked – who was this 'mutual friend'?

It turned out that she had been contacted by none other than Mike Logan, whom she knew through his ex-girlfriend, the nurse from the Staten Island prison. Once Mike knew they were having difficulty finding a home care nurse, he had taken it on himself to call Jo, and ask if she could help out.

Both Alex and Bobby had displayed a level of relief that Jo still didn't understand, and all Alex would say by way of explanation was that they thought it might have been someone else. Neither would say who they thought it might have been, and Jo could only guess that it was an individual that neither of them wanted anything to do with.

In the end, it didn't matter. Jo liked Bobby and, more importantly, Bobby seemed to like her. Alex had asked with some trepidation what rates she charged, and had been surprised and pleased to find it was within the boundaries of Bobby's extremely tight budget.

And so Jo had been hired. She was being paid to be there from seven in the morning until ten at night, to provide Bobby with full and complete care. That care included administering all medications, as well as assisting him with all manner of tasks through the day, tasks that ranged from bathing and dressing him in the mornings to feeding him and helping him with his toiletries.

As Alex had pointed out earlier, he had virtually no physical independence at all.

She sighed wearily and finally got out of bed to get herself some water. She didn't know why she was so restless, but if she couldn't get to sleep soon, she would still be in bed when Jo arrived later in the morning. Or worse, she would still be in bed, asleep, when Bobby woke up.

She trudged into the kitchen, and used the light of the refrigerator to pour herself some water. It was as she was setting the glass in the sink that she heard it; the sound of muffled sobs coming from Bobby's bedroom. Abandoning thoughts of returning to the sanctity of her bed, Alex crossed the floor and went into her partner's room.

* * *

Bobby was still asleep, caught up in the throes of a nightmare, distressed moans issuing from his still-bruised lips. Alex approached the bedside with caution, aware that she had to take care in how she woke Bobby up. It wasn't that she couldn't handle it personally if he lashed out at her, but he didn't need that guilt on top of his other traumas and miseries.

In the end, she sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and held his left arm down gently with one hand while she gently stroked his forehead and cheek with the other. The contact was all that was needed, and Bobby awoke with a strangled gasp.

"Easy," Alex murmured, feeling her heart break all over again at the sight of her once-strong partner reduced to such helplessness. "It's okay, Bobby. You're safe. You're with me, and you're safe."

Bobby shuddered, and he dissolved into sobs as the momentary shock wore off. Hoping he didn't react badly, Alex slid further onto the bed and gently drew his head against her shoulder in a comforting embrace, murmuring reassurances to him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered minutes later as the sobs finally eased and faded. "I woke you up."

"No, you didn't," she reassured him. "I was already up when I heard you. You didn't wake me."

Silence fell between them for a while, Alex continuing to stroke his forehead soothingly until his tremors faded and eventually ceased altogether, and his breathing settled and evened out once more.

"Feeling better?" she asked once she was sure he'd calmed down sufficiently.

"Yeah," he whispered. "A… A little. I… I'm…"

"Don't apologise, Bobby," she admonished him gently. "How many times do I have to say it?"

"I can't help it," he argued. "Everything you've done… Everything you're doing…"

"Is because I want to," she finished off for him. "But if you really have this compulsive need to apologise, then maybe we should just get it out of the way now, for everything. What do you think?"

He shifted against her slightly.

"You mean… Apologise in advance…? For everything…?"

"Sure. If you feel you have to apologise, Bobby… and keep in mind that I don't believe you need to… then let's just get it out of the way, right now. An apology for everything you think you should have to be sorry for. Name something."

He was silent for a while before venturing an answer.

"I'm sorry for… for you having to look after me."

"Okay, that's a big one," Alex agreed. "But like I've already said, I'm doing this because I want to, not because I have to. You know, I _could_ have kept quiet, and then you probably would have ended up at Deakins' place. I bet _that_ would have been a barrel of laughs."

Bobby smiled, and a small chuckle escaped his lips, eliciting a smile from Alex.

"What about something else?"

"Uh… I'm sorry that I couldn't eat any of what your dad cooked."

"Uh huh. Don't be too sorry. There's enough there that we'll both be living on leftovers for a week."

The chuckle came again, this time a little stronger.

"C'mon," Alex encouraged him. "Next thing?"

Bobby hesitated, searching his mind for something to say.

"I'm sorry that I'll probably use all your hot water in the mornings."

It was Alex's turn to snort with laughter.

"Think again, pal. I'm having my showers before you."

"You mean I have to wait until after lunch?"

She swatted him lightly on the shoulder, but it did the trick. A moment later, they were both laughing.

"Now how are you feeling?" she asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"A little silly," he admitted. She ruffled his hair affectionately.

"That's not such a bad thing. Now, do you think you might be able to sleep?"

"I think so," he conceded. "If you stay with me, that is."

Her smile broadened. Her tactics had worked. He made no effort to apologise.

"Of course I will," she murmured. "Go to sleep, Bobby. I'll be right here, I promise."

The faintest of sighs escaped him as he consciously relaxed against her.

"Thankyou, Alex."

"You're welcome, Bobby."

* * *

Deakins arrived mid-morning to find Alex sitting alone at her dining table, sipping at a steaming mug of coffee while looking slowly through the newspaper.

"I thought you'd be around later today," she remarked as he joined her at the table.

"I'd planned on it, but I have a meeting to attend with the Commissioner this afternoon. I wanted to see both you and Bobby today, so it had to be this morning. Where is he?"

"Jo's helping him to shower. I think he would have liked to have a bath, but with those hands still braced, there's no way he could get himself up. Did you want coffee, sir?"

"I'll pass, thanks, Alex. I just came from a breakfast meeting. There was enough coffee flowing there to jump start a Chevy. Tell me, how did he sleep? First night out of the hospital, and all…"

"He had a bad nightmare sometime after midnight, but he was okay. He got back to sleep again fairly quickly."

She didn't elaborate further, and Deakins didn't ask.

"And what about you?" he asked, eyeing her carefully. "How are you doing, Alex?"

A small smile lit up her face, momentarily erasing the weariness that etched her features.

"I'm okay, sir. A little tired, but otherwise okay. You said yesterday that you wanted to talk to me about coming back to work."

"Yes, I did," Deakins agreed. "Alex, I don't want to push you, but the workload is starting to bank up. It's been over a month, now, and there's only been so much that the rest of the squad can cope with. I really do need you back there."

She nodded.

"I know. I'm sorry, but I've just felt that it was more important to be there for Bobby."

"I understand that. I really do. But he's out of the hospital, now, and he's got someone to look after him through the day. I think it's time you came back to work."

Alex sighed softly.

"Who will I be working with? Logan?"

"If you're willing. He's been there for a couple of weeks now, trying to make some headway. But he needs a partner."

She was silent for a long minute, contemplating the reality of working with the fiery detective.

_He took a bullet trying to stop Cozza from killing Bobby_, she thought. A moment later, her mind was made up.

"I'll work with him," she said firmly, "but on the understanding that it's only temporary. Bobby is my partner, and he _will_ be coming back to work eventually. Logan isn't there to replace him."

Deakins smiled reassuringly at her.

"I don't want you to worry about that, Alex. I've already spoken at length with the Chief of Detectives, _and_ the Commissioner. Bobby's place in the squad is secure. When he's ready to come back, it'll be there for him. I promise you that."

She didn't return the smile.

"Don't make that promise to me, Captain. Make it to Bobby. He's the one who needs to be reassured that there's still a place for him in the squad."

Deakins nodded.

"I understand. I'll tell him myself, and I'll tell him again when he has the surgery on his eyes, and those bandages finally come off, so he can see that I'm telling him the truth."

Alex did smile, then.

"Thankyou, sir."

He sat back a little, relaxing finally.

"So, how is he, Alex? Really…"

"It's hard to say. He's happy to be out of the hospital. I guess that time will tell how well he's going to cope."

"There are going to be some difficult time ahead, Alex. You understand that…"

"I know!" she burst out, unable to help herself. "Everyone keeps telling me the same thing… like they think I'm going to just quit on him as soon as things get a bit rough. I know it's not going to be easy, but he's my partner… and my best friend. I'm _not_ going to just up and quit just because it isn't all plain sailing. How many times do I have to say that before everyone understands it?"

Deakins held up his hands defensively.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to imply that you would. I know you well enough to know that you won't do that. I just want to be sure that you have a full understanding of what you're facing here."

She stared at him across the table, her good humour all but gone.

"Captain…" She paused, searching her mind for something to say that wouldn't land her in hot water with her boss. "Let me give you a run-down of what I know I can expect. He's going to have mood swings, and by all accounts they're likely to be pretty monumental. He'll probably suffer varying degrees of depression. It could get so bad at times that he could become a suicide risk. There are going to be times when the physical pain is so bad that he might not be able to cope with it. He's bound to lash out… verbally _and _physically… at anyone close to him; namely, me. How am I doing so far?"

A small, grim smile found its way onto Deakins' face.

"I think that generally covers it."

She nodded. "I'll deal with it all, because I have to. After all, who else is there to help him like this? There's no one, and you know it. If I hadn't said that I'd take him in, he'd probably have had to go to somewhere like Bellevue. I couldn't let that happen to him, Captain."

Deakins stared at the tabletop.

"Alex… it might still happen. If the depression gets bad enough that he really does become suicidal, then we won't have a choice. He'll have to go to Bellevue."

Her expression was steely, and had Deakins shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"We'll cross that bridge _if_ we come to it."

"I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to suggest that you didn't know what to expect… or that you can't deal with it."

Alex groaned aloud, then. "Oh, for God's sake, I wish people would stop apologising. That's all everyone seems to do now. Apologise for every goddamn little thing."

Deakins smiled wryly.

"Then I guess you don't want me to say I'm sorry for saying I'm sorry?"

She froze momentarily, staring at him incredulously. A moment later, her face broke into a grin, and she laughed softly.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't, sir."

"I'm worried about Bobby, Alex," he went on quietly, "but I'm worried about you, too. This is going to drain you."

"I think you're underestimating my support base, Captain. And you haven't met Jo, yet."

"The home care nurse? I heard she was formidable."

"That's one word for her. Bobby tried protesting that he didn't need a wash last night before bed, and she rode over the top of him like he was a five year-old saying he didn't want a bath. She never gave him a choice. I think if it had come from anyone else, he would have gotten his back up over it, but there's something about Jo. She knows how to handle him. She can get away with babying him without him feeling like he's being patronised. Maybe it's the experience… I don't know. I don't think I want to know. She's good with him, though. That's what counts."

At that moment the bathroom door opened as though on cue and Jo emerged, guiding Bobby out into the living area. He definitely looked better for having had a relatively decent night's sleep outside the confines of the hospital, Deakins reflected. He waited patiently until Jo had guided Bobby over to the table and sat him down before speaking.

"Good morning, Bobby."

Bobby started just a little in surprise.

"Captain? I thought you were coming this afternoon. It's… not afternoon already, is it?"

Jo laughed as she retreated into the kitchen to get him his breakfast.

"Hardly, Bobby. You want coffee, hon? Or juice?"

Bobby hesitated before quietly requesting juice. He would have preferred coffee, but juice he could drink with a straw. Jo would have needed to help him with drinking coffee and with the captain there that was one humiliation he could do without.

"I came by to see how you're doing, now that you're out of the hospital," Deakins said casually. He could read between the lines easily enough, and guessed why Bobby had opted for juice, rather than coffee. A quick glance at Alex told him that she was equally aware.

"I'm okay," he answered simply. "Had a nightmare last night… Just the one, though. I slept okay afterwards."

"I'm glad to hear that," Deakins murmured.

"Captain, this is Jo Reilly," Alex said by way of introduction, taking an opportunity in the brief break in conversation. Deakins rose up out of his chair to shake hands with her as she brought the juice around for Bobby.

"Good to meet you, Ms Reilly."

"Nice to meet you too, Captain. And please, it's just Jo."

Deakins nodded amiably.

"In that case, just call me Jim, please."

Jo smiled and nodded in acquiescence.

"You want Alex to go back to work," Bobby said abruptly. It was no question. Deakins sighed softly and sank slowly back into the chair. He had hoped the subject wouldn't come up with Bobby, considering how the detective had reacted the last time, while still in the hospital.

"Yes," he answered plainly. Bobby nodded.

"It's a good idea. That is… if she can work with Logan as a temp partner."

Deakins blinked in surprise. He looked over at Alex, who appeared just as baffled by Bobby's suddenly ambivalent attitude.

"You think it's a good idea for me to work with Logan?" she asked, not quite able to keep from sounding incredulous. Bobby smiled faintly.

"Is it so hard to believe that I'd think that? He's a great detective, and he respects you. He'll treat you properly."

"It's only temporary, Bobby," Deakins assured him. "When you're ready to come back to work, it'll be you and Alex, just as before."

Bobby met that statement with brief silence.

"But… if something were to… happen… then Alex would have a partner she could work with."

Deakins felt a chill sweep down his spine at Bobby's ominous choice of words, and the word 'Bellevue' slipped through his mind once more.

"What do you think might happen, Bobby?"

At that, a bemused smile quirked Bobby's lips.

"Relax, Captain. That wasn't an implicit way of saying I'm suicidal."

Deakins reddened visibly at the blunt statement. It had been all too easy to allow himself to forget that Bobby's blindness hadn't affected his hearing. Bobby continued speaking, a small wry smile tugging at his lips. He'd gotten the better of the captain, and he knew it.

"What I meant was, what happens if, when they do the eye surgery, and take off the bandages… What if I still can't see? Or what if neither of my hands heal properly? It doesn't matter what promises you make. I'm no good to the squad if I've been crippled. And I would rather my place be taken by someone like Mike Logan, rather than have the place kept for me as a token gesture."

Deakins looked bemused by then, himself.

"You really are remarkable, Bobby."

It was Bobby's turn to flush red at the admiration that was all too apparent in Deakins' voice.

"I meant what I said, though," Deakins added. "I'm keeping your position open for you, Detective. I don't want you making any final decisions until you have _all_ the facts, and we have the opportunity to discuss everything thoroughly, _together_. Do I make myself clear?"

His voice took on a familiar tone of authority, and Bobby reacted accordingly.

"Yes, sir. Understood."

"Good," Deakins said, placated. He stood up, having said what he wanted to say and, more importantly, gotten the response that he wanted. He believed whole-heartedly that Bobby would eventually be physically, mentally and emotionally fit to return to work, and it was vital that Bobby be kept from doing anything that he would regret later on. That included quitting out of some warped sense of obligation or guilt.

"You're not going to stay for coffee?" Alex asked as she rose up as well.

"I have to get back to One Police Plaza," Deakins said apologetically. "Carver's coming in for a meeting about a couple of upcoming court cases. He'll be royally pissed off at me if I'm not there when he arrives. Look, Alex, it's Wednesday now… How about you come back to work on Monday?"

Alex looked across at Bobby but he said nothing, instead focusing his attention on taking a sip of the juice that Jo had set in front of him.

"Okay," she conceded finally. "Ah… If he wants to, Logan can come by today and drop off any case files that he wants me to look through, so I can at least be a little bit caught up by Monday."

"I'll let him know," Deakins assured her. "Bobby, try to behave yourself with the ladies, all right?"

Bobby nearly choked on the juice. Jo regarded Deakins with a raised eyebrow as she walked around to rub his back.

"What exactly do you think he's capable of doing, Jim?"

Deakins' grin widened as he paused by the door to answer her.

"Just don't take him on in a wager, don't let him listen to Jeopardy and, whatever you do, _don't_ play Trivial Pursuit with him."

* * *

_tbc..._


	24. A Shoulder to Cry On

A/N: _This is a shorter chapter, but unfortunately my muse has gotten distracted. I hope to come back to this story within the next couple of weeks, but I have a promise to keep to a friend. In the mean time, here is a short excerpt. And yes, things are going to get better for Bobby, but you know what they say – it's always darkest before the dawn…

* * *

_

"Okay, now I understand why Jim warned me against playing Trivial Pursuit with you."

Bobby smiled sheepishly as Jo slotted a final coloured triangle into his circle. She shook her head as she rolled the dice for him yet again.

"You know, you could get one wrong occasionally out of courtesy, you know."

Alex snorted where she lay on the sofa, reading a book.

"You've got to be kidding. He likes being able to answer the questions too much to do that. Why do you think I'm over here, reading a book, and not playing with you? Next time, if there _is_ a next time, insist on one roll of the dice per turn, whether you get the question right or not."

"I see you've been down this road before," Jo lamented comically. Alex laughed.

"Yes, and lived to regret it. If you want to take advantage of that brain of his, then I suggest you take him to a trivia night. You'd make a clean sweep."

Jo smirked, and returned her attention to the board.

"Okay, you've got a choice, either history or entertainment."

Bobby hesitated. He was good with history, but in the interests of fair play…

"Entertainment," he opted finally. Jo smiled, but said nothing about his choice.

"Okay… To win the game, name the only three movies to win eleven Oscars."

"Uh… Ben-Hur… The Return of the King…"

There he faltered, a frown on his face as he struggled to remember the third. Over on the sofa, Alex lowered her book to look at him in amusement.

"Don't tell me you don't know."

"I know," he protested. "I… I just… Damn…"

"Are you kidding us?" Jo asked incredulously. "You knew the name of Napoleon's horse, but you can't remember this? Tell me you're just pretending that you can't remember it, please…"

Bobby flushed violently red.

"I don't follow the movies… Hollywood… all of that."

"That's true," Alex agreed, deciding it was time she made a show of defending her partner. The whole time I've known him, I don't think he's watched the Academy Awards once. So I guess the fact that he knows two out of three is actually pretty good."

Jo chuckled and patted his hand reassuringly.

"I'm inclined to give it to you, anyway. I would have only gotten two of them myself. I didn't know Ben-Hur was one of the answers."

The doorbell rang. Motioning for Jo to stay put, Alex swung herself off the sofa, and went to see who it was.

"It's Logan," she announced before opening the door. "Come in, Mike. You want coffee? Or a beer?"

"Coffee, thanks," Logan said. "I'd love a beer, but Deakins would string me up personally if I did." He wandered over to the table, took one look at the game that was set up, and smirked at Jo. "Trivial Pursuit? You really don't know him very well yet, do you?"

Jo grinned.

"I'm learning. It doesn't matter, though. We've got to keep that mind active, right, Bobby?"

Logan grunted as he walked around and set a bundle of files on the end of the table.

"Active? Does he ever _stop_ thinking?"

"Yeah, Logan," Bobby muttered. "When you're around."

Logan froze momentarily, looking from Bobby to Alex with a stony expression on his face. Alex shook her head anxiously, silently begging him not to take offence. After a moment, Logan shrugged and smiled, dropping into the seat next to Jo.

"Glad I can be of some use, then," he joked. A moment later, a small smile crossed Bobby's face, mixed with regret at his thoughtless remark.

"Sorry," he apologised. "That was uncalled for."

"Ah, it's fine," Logan said dismissively. "I've been told before that I tend to have that effect on people. How you doing, anyway? Aside from whipping Jo at Trivial Pursuit, that is."

"Okay," Bobby answered after a moment's consideration. "Just… glad to be out of the hospital."

"I don't blame you," Logan said. "The food there sucks. Seriously, what is with that Jell-O crap? No one in their right mind buys the stuff to have at home, and yet they shovel it down your throat when you're in the hospital, like it actually has some nutritional value."

"Quit whining," Alex retorted. "You were only stuck in there for three days."

"Yeah, well, it felt like a lot longer."

"I can sympathise," Bobby said quietly, and Logan grimaced as that simple statement abruptly put his own experience very firmly into perspective.

"Those the case files that Deakins wants us to deal with?" Alex asked as she brought two mugs of coffee around, one for Logan and the other for herself. Logan nodded.

"Yeah. Three of them. Deakins dropped four in my lap within half an hour of me getting into Major Case. The fourth was pretty simple, it didn't take too long to solve it. These three aren't so simple, though."

"Maybe I could help… a little…" Bobby suggested tentatively. Alex frowned just a little. As much as she understood his desire to be a part of the process again, she also knew he needed complete rest, mentally and emotionally as well as physically, if he could hope to return to work.

"And maybe not," she told him gently, feeling lousy when his shoulders slumped a little in disappointment. She reached over to gently rub his back, and was not surprised when he turned away from her, silent and sullen. "You remember what you were told, Bobby. Complete and total rest. You're not supposed to do anything at all that might be stressful for you."

Silence reigned, Bobby still refusing to respond. Logan hesitated before speaking tentatively.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to let him help."

Alex shot a death glare at Logan, but he purposely ignored her.

"Seriously, what's the harm? If it makes you feel any better…"

"No," Bobby said softly. "Alex is right. I… I can't… She's right."

He stood up suddenly, moving so abruptly, that he very nearly over-balanced. It was only Alex's speedy reaction that preventing him from losing balance and tipping over.

"Bobby, I'm sorry," Alex started to say but he cut her off, at the same time detaching himself from her grasp.

"Now you're the one doing the apologising," he said, bringing her up short. "Jo, I'm tired. I think I need to lie down for a while."

Jo came around the table and gently took his arm.

"Okay, hon. C'mon, then."

Flashing Alex a reassuring smile, she guided Bobby into his room, and closed the door quietly behind them.

"Damn!" Alex choked out, tears filling her eyes. "That was stupid… Stupid!"

"Alex…"

Logan started to reach out to her, but she shook her head furiously, turning away from him in a useless effort to hide her tears.

"How could I be so stupid? All I did was reinforce to him that he's worthless! Oh god, Mike…"

A moment later, his one good arm was around her, pulling her in close in a fierce hug. She struggled at first, but her struggles were ineffective against Mike's strength. Within moments, she was slumped against him, crying softly into his shoulder while he murmured wordless reassurances to her.

With some difficulty, Logan managed to guide Alex over to the sofa, where she literally folded in against him. He made no attempt to speak. He had no idea what he could say even if he felt inclined to speak. After a while, though, she settled down and her sobs faded and she spoke in a strained voice.

"I didn't mean to hurt him, Mike."

"I'm sure he knows that," Logan murmured, while at the same time feeling an irrational stab of anger towards Bobby for reducing Alex to tears like this, even if it had been unintentional.

"That's just it," Alex whispered. "I don't think he does know. Everything is so messed up… so mixed up… for him, that he doesn't know where he's at right now. He trusted me, and I've let him down already…"

Logan hugged her all the more fiercely as she dissolved into tears once more, and silently hoped to God that Jo was able to get through to Alex's stubborn partner.

* * *

"She didn't say it to hurt you, you know," Jo murmured as she pulled Bobby's slippers off, and then helped him to lie down. "She was only repeating doctor's orders. And you know damn well that you're supposed to avoid putting yourself into potentially stressful situations."

"I just…" He faltered, not finished the thought. Jo sat on the very edge of the bed, watching him thoughtfully.

"You just what?"

"I hate feeling useless," he whispered, struggling to keep his voice even. Jo reached over and gently smoothed his curly hair.

"You aren't useless, Bobby. I understand you must feel that way, but you're not. I also understand that you probably aren't going believe me, but it's true whether you want to believe me or not."

"I do want to believe you," Bobby said miserably, "but I can't help how I feel. I thought I could have helped a little… just listened to what they've got… Maybe I could have just made some suggestions, or something. Am I so useless now that I can't even do that much…?"

Jo considered that for a moment before speaking.

"Bobby, honey… I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. Can you do that?"

He shifted a little, but said nothing. Jo decided to take that as a yes.

"If Alex and Mike did let you help out… If they shared the case information with you… do you really think you'd be able to stay detached from the case? Or do you think you'd be drawn in? Get involved with it?"

"I… I couldn't…"

Jo waited patiently, not interrupting even when he faltered. Nearly a minute passed before he made himself answer.

"I'd let myself get involved. It… It's what I do. I can't stay… detached."

"Then there's your answer," she told him.

"Alex knows me too well," Bobby confessed tiredly. "She knows I wouldn't stay detached."

"She wasn't trying to hurt you," Jo reiterated. "She was just trying to protect you. You may not feel like you want to be protected, but to a degree, that's exactly what you need. Tell me, do you trust yourself to make competent decisions at the moment?"

"I… No."

It was said so softly that Jo very nearly missed it all together. She gently ran her thumb over his forehead, and down his cheek.

"Do you trust Alex to do that?"

"Yes."

Jo smiled at his simple, whispered declaration of trust.

"Go to sleep now, baby," she told him quietly. "Everything's going to be okay."

Bobby slid off to sleep to the sensation of Jo's fingertips trailing soothing paths over his forehead.

* * *

When Jo emerged from the bedroom finally, she found Alex sitting on the sofa with Logan, each sipping at fresh mugs of coffee. Though she appeared calm, Alex's red-rimmed eyes were a dead giveaway that she'd been crying.

"How is he?" Alex asked anxiously.

"Fast asleep," Jo answered, and a small frown creased Alex's brow in response.

"That isn't exactly what I meant."

"I know. He's not upset at you, Alex. At least, not directly. He's more frustrated and angry with his own perceived limitations and ineffectiveness at the moment. He understands that you're just trying to do the right thing by him. You don't have anything to feel sorry or guilty over."

Her shoulders slumped noticeably.

"Then why do I feel like I do?"

Jo regarded her thoughtfully.

"Have you seen a counsellor yet, Alex?"

Alex grimaced a little.

"I… Well…"

"That would be a no," Logan put in, drawing a glowering look from Alex.

"I'm not the one who was assaulted, raped and tortured," she growled angrily.

"No," Jo agreed," but you're the partner and the best friend of the man who _was_. You need to talk to someone, Alex. You keep burying those feelings you've got, and sooner or later all hell's gonna break loose."

Alex flushed red with embarrassment.

"What feelings are you talking about?" she asked defensively. A wry smile found its way onto Jo's face.

"Oh, relax, honey. I wasn't trying to imply that there's anything romantic between you and Bobby. All I'm referring to are those feeling of guilt that you're hanging on to, when you shouldn't be."

"She's right," Logan agreed quietly. Alex stared at the floor, feeling sick to her stomach all of a sudden.

"The logical part of me keeps saying I shouldn't," she admitted softly, "but I can't stop feeling guilty. I can't help thinking that I should have known he needed help. That he would have known if it had been me."

"And this is why you have to talk to someone professionally," Jo encouraged her, "before it gets to the point where you can't even bring yourself to look at Bobby, because the guilt is so great."

Alex swallowed hard. She glanced briefly at Logan, who nodded in wordless encouragement.

"Okay," she whispered finally, defeated. "I'll call Olivia Benson. Maybe I can talk to the SVU shrink."

"Dr Huang?" Logan mused. "He's a good guy. You won't have any trouble talking to him."

She hesitated, then looked him deliberately in the eye. In the few seconds before she spoke, she could see him tensing in anticipation of an insult or a sharp remark from her. A small smile quirked her lips as she finally spoke.

"Thankyou, Mike."

He blinked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Uh… You're welcome… I think…"

Jo laughed at his bewilderment, and her open and infectious laughter drew wider smiles out of both of the detectives.

"Mike, honey, don't think about it. Just go with it, okay?"

Logan smiled ruefully as he got up.

"Sounds like a plan. Look, I've got to get going. I told Deakins I'd only be half an hour. If I don't get back soon, he'll draw and quarter me, and I'd like to avoid doing anything right now that'll land me back on Staten Island."

Alex rose up from the sofa and followed him to the door.

"I'll look over those cases over the weekend, and we can get started on them properly on Monday."

"Sounds good," Logan agreed. He paused, eyeing her thoughtfully before speaking again. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so," she murmured sincerely. She hesitated, and then favoured him with a warm smile. "With you on my side, how can I not be?"

She stretched up, kissing him gently on the cheek before he quite knew what was happening.

"Thanks again, Mike."

A broad smile broke out across his face.

"You're welcome, again. I'll see you on Monday, Alex."

* * *

"You know, you want to be careful with him."

Alex regarded Jo quizzically as she returned to the sofa.

"With Logan? How do you mean?"

"Well, hon, he doesn't have that reputation as a ladies' man for nothing. He's a sweet guy once you get to know him, but he does have a habit of leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him, too."

Alex couldn't keep the small, knowing grin off her face, but wisely refrained from commenting any further.

* * *

_tbc..._


	25. Encounters

A/N: I make no apologies for this chapter. I've already had a big fight with my muse over this aspect of the story, and we've come to a compromise. You'll see what I mean when you get to the end of this chapter. Please read it through first, and take note of the author's note at the end before you review this chapter.

* * *

Case notes of Dr Graham Thomas, PsyD  
Subject: Robert Goren  
Review after six sessions.

_Subject: white male, 44 years old, suffering extreme physical, emotional and mental trauma. The subject was a victim of a violent home invasion, during which he was drugged, physically assaulted, raped and tortured. _

_Robert Goren has proven to be quite the challenge. He possesses a tremendous knowledge of psychiatric practises, and has a strong tendency to use this knowledge to keep himself closed off from anyone attempting to reach him. He hides inside his own mind, but those moments when he does surface and allow me glimpses at who he is underneath all the protective layers, make the effort worthwhile. _

_Robert defies all attempts at classification. His symptoms are widespread, and seem to vary from session to session, ranging from severe depression to an anger that is frightening in its intensity. To a person who didn't know any better, or didn't know what to look for, he might appear to be functioning at a normal, reasonable level, but that is definitely not the case._

_I'll summarise from the beginning, for my own benefit. _

_Robert was referred to me a week and a half after he was assaulted and raped. I was contacted not on an official level, but rather by a colleague – Dr George Huang – who felt I might be able to help. Apparently George had intended to take Robert on as a patient himself, but their initial session was_…_ less than positive. I normally don't take individual cases on recommendations, but I owed George a favour and agreed to pay Robert an initial visit at St Clare's. _

_As a rule, I usually avoid taking on police officers as patients, but I admit that I was intrigued by Robert from the start. After reading his family history, what psychiatrist wouldn't be? This, of course, is not about his mother, though I expect the subject will come up eventually. _

_George sent me Robert's file the night before I planned to visit him in the hospital. I admit that I was up most of the night reading through it through. I've dealt with victims of rape many times, but I never cease to be shocked by the level of depravity that man is capable of sinking to._

_Robert was tortured both physically and sexually over a period of approximately ten to twelve hours by three men, one of whom was his own brother. He suffered critical, life-threatening injuries, and spent over a month in the hospital recovering from those injuries._

_Even now he still has a long road ahead of him in terms of a full physical recovery. Part of his current fragile state of mind is a direct result of the uncertainty of his recovery from some of those injuries. Robert's eyes were burned shut, and both of his hands were broken savagely, leaving him almost completely incapable of caring for himself. As yet, there is no guarantee that his sight will be restored to him, or that his hands will heal. _

_He is starkly afraid of what will happen to him if these particular injuries turn into permanent disabilities, but he still refuses to be drawn into a discussion on this subject. _

_Right now, I'm attempting to focus on getting Robert to work through the actual assault. That is no easy task. As near as I can tell, the only individual who has come close to drawing the full story out of him is Detective Stabler, of the Special Victims Unit, and even he admitted there was much that Robert had not been able to talk about. _

_I see my immediate duty as encouraging Robert to face everything that happened to him, and then I can begin to help him learn to cope with it. Because the one thing I am certain of right at this point, after six sessions with Robert, is that he is not coping at all._

_

* * *

_

Dr Thomas ceased writing as his intercom buzzed to life, and his receptionist informed him that Robert Goren had arrived.

Thomas' first reaction was one of surprise. To be perfectly honest, he had expected a phone call at least a half hour ago telling him that Bobby had refused to leave the apartment. Pleased, he put his notes down and went to meet his newest patient.

It was actually big step for the detective to have taken, Thomas reflected. After a week of self-imposed confinement within Alex Eames' apartment, this was the first time that Bobby had ventured outside. It was a vital step towards reducing the risk of Bobby becoming house-bound.

"Hi, Bobby," Thomas greeted his somewhat recalcitrant patient as Jo Reilly guided him through into the office. "Feeling ready to talk?"

Bobby didn't answer; a response that didn't surprise Thomas in the slightest. He'd been the same before every session – withdrawn and reluctant. Given time and patience, though, he knew that Bobby would open up slowly. Sometimes it took only a few minutes of coaxing, sometimes it took the better part of their first hour together, but inevitably Bobby would start to open up. Then, that was when they would start to make the real progress.

He stood back patiently and watched as Jo guided Bobby into a seat by the open window. Normally, to minimise potential distractions, Thomas kept the window shut and had his patients sit closer to the centre of the room, but not all of his patients were deprived of the senses of sight and touch, either. In allowing Bobby to sit by the open window, and to experience a fresh breeze and the pleasant scent of the potted flowers there, Thomas hoped it would help to keep him calm and focused.

"I'll be right outside, honey," Jo reassured him, taking a moment to smooth back a wayward curl. "I promise I won't go anywhere."

Bobby nodded in wordless acceptance of her promise. Thomas saw her out, and then returned to his own seat near Bobby.

"You're lucky, Bobby. You've got yourself a damned good home-care nurse there. I know Jo Reilly's reputation."

"I know," Bobby agreed quietly. "I know I'm lucky." He paused, turning his face towards the open window. A gentle breeze had just picked up, carrying the scent from the flowers through into the room and, as Thomas had anticipated, Bobby easily picked up on it. "Geraniums?"

"That's right," Thomas confirmed with a small smile. "You really do have a remarkable sense of smell."

"It… It's something I developed as a… a kid."

Thomas raised an eyebrow slightly at the unprompted admission. In all of his previous sessions with Bobby, it had been something of a trial to draw any personal information out of the detective. It was a welcome surprise to have Bobby volunteering information for once. Hopefully, Thomas thought wryly, it was a trend that would continue.

"How do you mean, you developed it?"

"Out of necessity," Bobby explained. "It… It became important… A survival technique."

"Survival technique? That's a curious way of putting it. Survival for at school, or at home?"

Thomas suspected he already knew the answer to that, but he was interested to see how far Bobby was willing to explain.

"At… At home. Being able to tell whether my dad smelled of women or liquor when he came home helped me to know when to stay out of his way. It… It meant the difference between getting hit, or not."

"And that happened a lot, didn't it?"

"After Mom got sick, yeah. Dad couldn't cope. He didn't seem to want to even try."

It was with difficulty that Thomas concealed his enthusiasm. He didn't know what had brought on this sudden openness, but it was a welcome change to having to poke and pry for every little bit of information.

"How was your relationship with your brother during that time?"

Bobby fell silent, and Thomas wondered briefly whether he'd tried for too much too soon. He was relieved when Bobby did finally respond.

"We were never close. While Dad was still around, Richie spent most of his time trying to live up to his standards." A short, bitter laugh escaped Bobby's lips. "The son of a bitch was a womanising drunk who gambled away all of his and Mom's savings, but Richie and I were supposed to be perfect. He was a fucking hypocritical bastard."

Thomas watched Bobby thoughtfully. The anger was not unexpected. Indeed, he welcomed it. Visible shows of emotion meant Bobby wasn't trying to hide behind the walls of his own mind.

"Richie tried to comply?"

"We both did. Richie was just better at it than I was. Plus, he was the oldest. Mom and Dad favoured him anyway."

"And so he got all the attention from your father."

"What attention he bothered to give… yeah."

"And when your father left?"

"Richie got himself into the high school basketball team. He was good… good enough that Dad came to see all of his games. He used it to get himself a scholarship later on, but until then it was the best and only way of getting Dad's attention. He was fully into the gambling by then. Sport was the only chance we had of getting his attention."

"I gather you did the same, then?"

Bobby's shoulder slumped noticeably.

"I tried. I got myself into the high school basketball team. I was never as good as Richie, but I could hold my own in the team. I figured for sure that Dad would take an interest, but he never showed up at any of my games. In the end, I had to quit."

"Had to, or wanted to?"

"A bit of both. By then, Richie had his scholarship and was gone. I was looking after Mom on my own. My grades weren't too good, and eventually I had to make a choice. I couldn't take care of Mom, do my school work and play basketball. Something had to go, so I quit basketball."

"That must have been a difficult choice."

"Not so much. I stopped enjoying basketball when I realised I wasn't getting what I wanted out of it."

"Your father's attention?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me, Bobby, did you ever resent that Richie got the attention from your father that you were never able to get?"

"I used to," Bobby admitted quietly. "But somewhere along the line, I realised that the attention Dad gave Richie wasn't a good kind of attention. There was a lot of pressure on Richie from Dad to excel… I remember one time, just before Dad finally walked out on us. Richie brought home his report card from school, and he'd gotten a C in something. Dad hit the roof, started screaming at him… At one point he told him that he had to knuckle down and do a lot better than that, or he'd end up just like Mom."

Thomas winced a little, but said nothing. Bobby went on in a heavily subdued tone.

"It took me a while, but I eventually understood that I was better off for not having had that sort of pressure put on me. I stopped resenting Richie, and I started to feel sorry for him instead."

"Is that why you never pressed charges when he attacked you that time?"

For just a moment, Bobby appeared to be confused. Then, Thomas saw the realisation dawn on his face.

"Oh… When I was with Narcotics, you mean. Yeah, that was part of it. I knew that trying to live up to Dad's expectations screwed Richie up. But the reason I never pressed charges back then was because of Mom. She'd been in the middle of a really bad time back then, and news would have gotten back to her eventually. She couldn't have coped."

Thomas paused, wondering whether Bobby was ready to confront how he was really feeling now about his brother. He decided to try.

"So, you had sympathy for him then, even though he stabbed you… how many times?"

"Five times. He didn't know what he was doing. He was in withdrawal, and he was half out of his mind. He… He just didn't know what he was doing."

"As opposed to this time?"

Bobby fell abruptly silent. Thomas watched him intently, waiting to see how Bobby would respond, or if he would respond at all.

"He knew what he was doing this time," Bobby said finally, his voice so soft that Thomas almost missed the words. "I know he's been diagnosed with schizophrenia, but he still knew what he was doing. He… He deliberately set out to hurt me as much as he could. He… He wanted me dead. My own brother…"

He didn't break down, though Thomas had fully expected him to. A slight shudder passed through him, but that was all. When Bobby spoke again, his voice was steady once more.

"I don't hate Richie. I… I want to… but I can't. I can't bring myself to hate him. But I don't understand how I became the focal point of _his_ anger… of _his_ hatred. It had to be based on more than just me refusing to testify for him that time."

"I expect you're right," Thomas agreed. "It's probably been a long simmering issue within him, twisted by his own illness."

"How could he come to hate me so much?" Bobby asked softly, and now Thomas could feel the intense sadness and confusion radiating off Bobby like heat.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I don't have an answer to that question. That's something that you may never know, unless you can eventually bring yourself to face him"

"I don't know if I can do that."

"You don't want to face Richie again? Or do you just feel that you can't?"

Bobby didn't answer, and Thomas waited a good couple of minutes before trying again.

"Do you think you might want the opportunity to face Richie further down the track?"

Bobby turned his head away, towards the open window.

"I don't know."

Thomas nodded. He was starting to be able to recognise certain body language, and he could easily tell that Bobby was done talking about his brother, at least for the time being.

"Bobby, do you remember where we left off last time?"

Silence. Thomas spoke again, patiently.

"You told me what happened when Matic and Cozza left you alone with Richie. What happened after that?"

They sat in silence for nearly five minutes, Thomas waiting quietly for Bobby to respond. He would eventually – it was very much a case of asking the question, and then having the patience to let Bobby take his time to answer.

"Richie didn't stay."

Thomas silently picked up his notebook again, and began to write. Bobby went on softly, his face still turned away, towards the window.

"After Richie used the… the poker on me, he left. He never said anything, he just left. I think they left me alone for maybe ten or fifteen minutes. I couldn't really tell. I could hear them in the bathroom, though. It sounded like they were cleaning up. I… I remember praying that they were nearly done with me. I wanted to die by then. I knew they weren't going to let me live, so by then I'd stopped praying that I'd live through it, and started wishing they'd kill me and get it over with. I was scared to die… but I was hurting so badly, that I didn't want to live anymore, either."

Thomas bit down on his lower lip, silently thanking the deities for doctor/patient confidentiality. If Bobby's captain and colleagues were ever to hear any of this, god only knew what reaction they would have. Alex Eames, especially…

"There's no shame in giving up," Thomas pointed out gently. "Like you said, you were hurting more than you could stand."

Bobby shuddered a little.

"I wanted to give up, but I couldn't. When Matic and Cozza came back in, and started on me again, all I could think of was…"

At that point, Bobby trailed off, sitting trembling and silent. Thomas watched him in mild concern, giving him a reasonable gap before prompting him gently.

"All you could think of was what?"

"Alex," Bobby whispered. Thomas sat forward just a little, his interest piqued.

"Alex? Your partner?"

Bobby lifted his head fractionally.

"I couldn't stand the thought of letting her down."

Slowly, Thomas set his notes aside.

"You think that by dying, you'd be letting Alex down."

"In… In the worst way."

"Let me make sure I've got this straight. You clung to life… literally… to keep from disappointing your partner."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"You make it sound like a crime in itself."

Thomas laughed softly, then.

"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to. I'm just amazed, that's all."

"By what?"

"The depth of your connection to Alex. Bobby, you just admitted that she was what kept you from giving up! That's no small thing. And the fact that she's taken you into her home says she cares just as deeply for you."

"We're not… not in love…"

"I know that. It is possible for two people to love each other deeply without it becoming sexual. Clearly, you and Alex have that something special… True friendship. It's nothing to be sneered at, believe me."

Bobby slumped back in the chair. He was nervous, and had no way to expend that nervous energy. It was frustrating the hell out of him.

"She's my best friend. For a long time she was my… my only friend."

"You really believe that?"

"Well… maybe not my only friend. But it felt like it."

"What about Lewis?"

At the mention of his long-time friend, Bobby suddenly went completely silent.

Thomas watched him piercingly. Dropping Lewis' name into the conversation had been no accident. Two sessions ago, Bobby had let slip that he had literally exploded after finally learning that it had been Lewis who had made that phone call on the Sunday morning – the phone call that either Matic or Cozza had answered, and hung up on straight away. The phone call that should have alerted the caller to the fact that something was wrong. The phone call that could have resulted in help reaching Bobby several hours sooner.

The force of Bobby's anger had apparently been heard all the way down the length of the hospital ward. Later on, everyone within earshot would admit to being unable to remember exactly what had been said – or yelled, as it were – only that Lewis had fled the hospital and had not been anywhere near Bobby since.

Bobby's reaction may have seemed harsh, but Thomas suspected that learning about that so soon after the perceived betrayal of his cousin had simply been more than Bobby could cope with in his fragile state of mind. Danny had failed to come back, despite his promise, which had been yet another blow to Bobby's emotional wellbeing. The detective had always had issues with trust, but it was more pronounced now than it ever had been before.

Right at that point, Thomas was aware of just four people that Bobby seemed to trust implicitly: Alex Eames, Jim Deakins, Jo Reilly and, much to the surprise of everyone, Elliot Stabler. Beyond those four, Bobby trusted no one.

"You feel betrayed by a lot of people, don't you?" Thomas persisted. "By Lewis… By your neighbours… Your cousin."

Still Bobby said nothing.

"It's okay to admit to being angry," Thomas said. "It's a natural enough emotion, and you do have justification for feeling like that. In fact, I'd be worried if you weren't."

"I can understand, though," Bobby said finally, miserably. "I don't want to understand, but I do."

"What do you understand?"

"Everyone else's perspective."

"Explain that to me, Bobby."

The faintest of sighs escaped Bobby's lips before he spoke again.

"With my neighbours, they all know I'm a cop. I remember one of them saying once how glad they were that I was in the building… because any criminals would just take one look at me and run in the other direction."

Thomas chuckled softly, and was pleased when his laughter drew out a small smile on Bobby's face.

"I can see where that would make them feel better," Thomas remarked amusedly. "After all, you're six foot four and built like a brick wall."

The smile faded from Bobby's face as fast as it had appeared.

"It didn't help me much, did it?"

"You were drugged, Bobby," Thomas pointed out. "It wouldn't have mattered if you were ten feet tall, and made of metal. You still wouldn't have been able to fight back. But I don't want you focusing on that now. You were saying that you understand your neighbours' lack of action."

"Like I said… They know I'm a cop. I guess they thought I could handle it."

"But you wish one of them had called 911."

"Yeah, but at the same time…"

"What is it?" Thomas encouraged quietly.

"I… I wonder whether, if they had called… whether Matic and Cozza might have just killed me outright."

"They might have done," Thomas agreed, quietly impressed that Bobby had the presence of mind, even in the midst of his current state of depression, to see the situation from that perspective. Bobby's shoulders slumped further.

"I just don't know anymore. Nothing was ever simple or straight-forward before, but now… Everything's so mixed up."

"Are you still angry at Lewis?"

"Yes… and no. I want to be angry… and I guess I still am… but I know Lewis. He's a good guy… but he's not the brightest guy around. He… He knew I was meeting Richie that night. When he called on Sunday morning and the phone was just hung on him, he probably figured I was in a bad mood from that, and just didn't want to talk. I… I can't hold that against him. It would have been a reasonable assumption."

"You know, Bobby," Thomas said quietly, "you're putting a lot of effort into understanding everyone else's perspective. I can't help but wonder how much of that energy you're directing towards understanding what's going on inside your own psyche."

Even as Thomas watched, Bobby literally seemed to shrink into himself.

"I see," Thomas murmured after a couple of minutes of uncomfortable silence. "It's easier for you to try to understand other people's motives, rather than your own."

"It… It's what I do."

"Profiling, you mean."

"Yes."

"Okay, I get that. But now, you need to stop."

The silence that met that statement was profound. Then, slowly, Bobby's head came up and Thomas imagined that if he had been able to look into Bobby's eyes at that moment, he probably would have seen a world of pain there.

"I… I can't."

"You can't stop?"

"I can't t… turn it off. I… I just can't."

Thomas watched him thoughtfully. Over the last few minutes, Bobby's voice had gotten progressively softer, until he was speaking in barely more than a whisper.

"It's my… my connection. I can't stop."

"Your connection?"

"To… to everything. To everyone."

Thomas bit down lightly on his lower lip as he mulled that over.

"You feel disconnected if you try to… turn your mind off, as it were."

"Not so much disconnected…"

"What, then?"

"Useless."

Again, it was spoken so softly that Thomas had to strain to hear.

"That's the bottom line for you at the moment, isn't it?" Thomas asked quietly. "What's happened to you has effectively left you feeling useless, and you don't know how to reverse that."

"Jo… She said that… that I'm not…"

"But you can't quite bring yourself to accept it."

"How can I?" Bobby asked plaintively. "How can I accept it? Look at me!"

"I am, Bobby. I am looking at you, and I see a man who is far from useless. Do you want to know what I see?"

Bobby shifted forward slightly in the chair, his agitation starting to show through.

"I'm tired. I want to go."

Thomas regarded him critically.

"What is it, Bobby? What are you afraid of hearing?"

"Nothing."

It was said a little too defensively for Thomas' liking.

"Then hear me out. Can you do that?"

Bobby slumped back in the chair, reluctantly accepting that he wasn't going to be leaving yet. Thomas went on quietly.

"When I look at you, I see a good, brave man who survived a horrific ordeal. I see a man who needs time, patience and understanding to recover from his injuries… the emotional ones as well as the physical ones. I see a man who is down, but definitely not out. Now, you may or may not want to accept what I say right now as gospel, but I'm hoping that eventually I'll be able to get you to believe that just about everyone who knows you thinks the same thing."

He wasn't the least bit surprised when Bobby didn't respond. Thomas took a moment observe him. Shoulders slumped, head down, hands resting on his lap… Bobby looked defeated.

"Okay," Thomas conceded gently. "All right, Bobby. We'll leave it there for now. But before we meet again, I want you to give something a try."

"What?" Bobby asked dully.

"Pick someone… preferably not Alex or Jo… and put those profiling skills of yours to use. You say you can't turn it off? Then we'll use it to your advantage. Pick one person, and see if you can determine what they're really thinking about you. I think you might just get a surprise."

Leaving his chair, Thomas helped Bobby gently to his feet, and guided him out of the office into the waiting room, where Jo had been waiting patiently.

"Finished?" she asked, and Thomas smiled as she took Bobby's arm.

"Yes. He's all yours, Jo. So, what's the plan for this afternoon? Going to take advantage of the good weather?"

Jo looked up at her charge.

"I could go for a hotdog in Central Park. How about you, Bobby?"

He didn't answer, though. Jo smiled sadly, and began to usher him towards the door.

"C'mon, baby. Let's go."

They got as far as the door when Bobby suddenly stopped and turned back a little towards Thomas.

"You didn't see me as a cop."

Thomas' smile faded, to be replaced with visible confusion and just a touch of concern.

"How do you mean, Bobby?"

"You told me how you see me, but you never said you see me as a cop. That's what I am… It's _who_ I am… But you didn't see that in me. That's what this has really stolen from me. My… my identity."

Turning, Bobby continued on, forcing Jo to move as well.

Thomas stood there for nearly a minute after Bobby had gone, weighing up the implications of Bobby's words in his own mind before finally turning and walking silently back into his own office, and closing the door behind him.

* * *

"You're still a cop, Bobby," Jo said quietly as they exited the building. "If Dr Thomas doesn't see that in you now, maybe that's just because he didn't know you before this all happened."

"And what about you? How do you see me, Jo? As an injured cop or as a useless cripple who needs everything done for him?"

Anger flashed briefly in Jo's eyes, but she reined it in and spoke in a forcibly calm voice.

"Bobby, honey, I know you're hurting. I know you're confused, and I know you're angry. But so help me God, if I hear the word cripple pass your lips again, I will slap you all the way into next week. You got that?"

He didn't respond, but the way he shifted uncomfortably on the spot told Jo that he'd gotten the message loud and clear. She nodded, satisfied.

"Okay, then. Now, to answer your question, I see you as a good, somewhat stubborn detective who happens to need help while he recovers from some pretty nasty injuries."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Bobby's mouth.

"Stubborn?"

"Hell, yes. Lucky for you, so am I. Now, move yourself, Detective Goren. It's a beautiful day, and I am not going to stand for being cooped up in an apartment while the sun is shining. And besides, I really want that hotdog."

* * *

"You sure you don't want something?" Jo asked a while later as she collected a heavily garnished hotdog from a vendor near Central Park.

"I'm sure," Bobby murmured. "Alex's mom and dad are coming for dinner tonight. They're bringing the food, so there's bound to be a lot of it. I couldn't eat any of the last meal that Mr Eames prepared. I… I don't want that to happen tonight."

"Fair enough," Jo conceded. "Maybe another day, then. So how are you feeling, hon? Really…"

"Drained," Bobby admitted softly as Jo led him into the park in search of a seat. "I feel like all I'm ever expected to do is talk… about what happened, and how I feel about it. But… he doesn't offer any solutions."

"And you're frustrated."

"Yes."

"Be patient, Bobby. It's a slow process. You, of all people, ought to understand that."

She was right. He knew she was right. But at the same time, the hurt was so great that trying to accept that the healing process was a slow one was almost impossible. He wanted so much to just be over it, and to be able to reclaim his life… to be able to just go back to work. Knowing that couldn't happen… that it _wouldn't_ happen for some time was just about killing him inside.

"Here," she murmured, guiding him to sit on a bench. She sat next to him, took a bite of her hotdog, and moaned blissfully.

"Oh, that's good," she mumbled around a mouthful of meat, bread and condiments. "Bobby, you've got to have a bite."

"No, thanks. I'm fine, Jo."

"Oh, don't be so uptight. Here, open up."

Bobby opened his mouth to protest that he was fine, and nearly gagged a moment later when she pushed a portion of her hotdog past his lips. Unprepared as he was, the sauce, cheese and onions missed his mouth entirely, and landed in a messy blob on his shirt.

"Oops," Jo said, and then snorted with ill-concealed laughter. Bobby tried to look irritated, but it was damned hard to be angry with someone whose laughter was as infectious as Jo's was.

"And now you get to clean me up," Bobby grumbled after he managed to swallow the portion that actually made it into his mouth. Jo giggled like a schoolgirl as she pulled a tissue from her handbag and carefully mopped the worst of the spillage off his front.

"Hang on. I'll bin this, and go get a bottle of water from the vendor just over there. We'll have you cleaned up in no time. Wait here, I'll be back in a minute."

Bobby shook his head slightly as she hurried off.

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Jo dropped the tissue in a nearby bin, and hurried over to the nearby vendor to buy a bottle of water. She had been momentarily afraid that he would explode at her, but he'd surprised her by taking it in good humour. Of course, she was still likely to get a serve from Alex later on, but Bobby was her primary concern, and that she looked back now to find him sitting and smiling to himself could only be a good thing.

Abruptly, her own smile faded. Standing almost directly in front of Bobby – not attempting to interact with him in any way, just watching him – was a slim woman of average height, with light brown hair down to her shoulders. She made no effort to speak to him, she simply stood watching him in silence with an expression on her face that Jo couldn't interpret.

Gradually, Bobby seemed to become aware of this newcomer's presence, and he lifted his head slowly. Forgetting about the water, Jo began to walk back to the bench; slowly at first, and then faster. She was within metres when the woman suddenly looked around, and their eyes locked. Then, the woman spun on her heel and fled.

Jo slowed to a halt beside Bobby, confused and worried. She didn't know who the woman was, or whether she had presented any sort of a threat to Bobby, but there had been no mistaking the tears that welled in her eyes in that moment before she hurried away.

"Jo?" Bobby asked tentatively. "Is that you?"

She sat down beside him, and slipped an arm protectively around his shoulders.

"It's me. Bobby, there was someone standing here just a moment ago, watching you."

"Describe them."

"It was a woman… maybe a few inches taller than Alex. Shoulder length light brown hair… and she was just slightly buck-toothed."

Bobby's breath caught audibly in his throat at the description. He stood up quickly… a fraction too quickly, and staggered a little as he nearly lost his balance.

"Hey, easy," Jo said, jumping up and catching hold of his arm to steady him. "You don't need to be falling over. You don't want to end up back in the hospital."

"Take me to One Police Plaza."

"What? Why?"

"Nicole… It was Nicole. I… I have to tell Alex… and Deakins."

"Bobby, let me take you home. We can call Alex and Jim from there."

"No. I need to tell them. Please, Jo, just take me to One Police Plaza."

Jo stared up at his pale face, debating the wisdom of taking him to his place of employment as opposed to taking him home when he clearly did not want to go.

"Jo, _please_…" Bobby pleaded softly. She sighed softly,

"Okay, Bobby. Okay."

* * *

_**tbc...**_

**_A/N:_ I do not intend to write into the story any direct contact between Bobby and Nicole. But her inclusion does have a purpose which should prove beneficial to Bobby. I'm not elaborating any further than that. It'll spoil the plot.**


	26. Fun and Games

_A/N: Not fluff... but not as dark as previous chapters, either. Yes, I can be benevolent, when the mood takes me.  
I'm posting a reasonable length chapter this time around, because I'll be on holiday all next week. On the bright side, I hope to have a couple more chapters ready by the time I come back.__  
Spoilers for Season 4 episode: _'_Want_'_ included._

_

* * *

_

One Hogan Plaza

ADA Ron Carver sank into his chair, feeling intensely weary. He had just arrived back at his office from court and he wanted nothing more than to shut himself inside his office – preferably for the rest of the day. The case he'd been prosecuting was the last case completed by Detective Goren and Detective Eames. Specifically, it was their last complete case from before Detective Goren had been attacked.

The jury had returned a guilt verdict, much to his relief. It was yet another notch on Bobby Goren's belt.

Carver sighed softly. He couldn't help but wonder whether that would be the last case he would prosecute where Bobby Goren had been the investigating detective. He sincerely hoped not, but in all honesty he just couldn't envisage the detective recovering from what had happened to him; at least, not enough that he would be able to reclaim his place on the NYPD, and within the Major Case Squad.

He grimaced, getting a sudden mental image of his win ratio plummeting. He knew he was a good prosecutor, but the hard truth was that his career simply would not have been as successful as it was without the likes of Bobby Goren on his side. Ultimately, Bobby made his job just that much easier… even if they didn't always agree.

A wry smile found its way onto Carver's face as he recalled the number of times he had clashed with Bobby. The very first time had been nearly five years ago, with the case of Morris Abernathy's murder, and everything that had come after. Then, Bobby had gone behind his back to elicit a confession out of the priest for a second murder for reasons that, to this day, Carver still didn't know about. Then, he had threatened to have Bobby's badge if he tried any other similar stunts.

He remembered only too well the slightly sullen, resentful look on Bobby's face at the time, and he remembered thinking then that their professional relationship was bound for a rocky road. It had been interesting, sure, but nowhere near as turbulent as Carver had expected.

After the case with the priest, Bobby had been more or less well-behaved for perhaps a year before the next… _incident. _Then, he had conspired with Alex Eames right under his nose to nail one of his own colleagues for trying to frame his wife for attempted murder.

He'd been enraged by their deception, a cool and calculated strategy that had been played out right in front of him with the slickness of a rattlesnake mesmerising its prey. He was sure that, to this day, neither detective had a clue just how close they had both come to losing their ranks as a result of that particular stunt. Indeed, it had only been Jim Deakins' fervent defence of their tactics that had saved them that time around.

And then, there was the Tagman case.

Carver couldn't hide the small smile that found its way onto his face. In retrospect, he'd found that he understood the detective's point of view over whether or not Tagman deserved the death penalty. That didn't change his stance legally, but he _did_ understand Bobby's staunch arguments against the death penalty. In fact, he felt he could say that he'd learnt more from that case about Bobby Goren the man, as opposed to Bobby Goren the detective, than anything else in their professional history together.

He couldn't exactly say he and Bobby were friends. They moved in completely different circles. Where Bobby might have been inclined to joining his buddies at a bar after work for a drink, he himself would more likely be found with his colleagues at an expensive cocktail lounge.

No, they would never be friends, as such, but they did have a mutual respect for each other that had been hard come by and would not be easily discarded. Carver knew he would sorely miss the big detective if it turned out that he would not be able to return to work.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, quietly annoyed at his own negativity, Carver leaned forward in his chair to get started on the waiting paperwork, only to stop short at the sight of the large, plain white envelope that sat innocuously on his desk. There was no postmark, or any other discernible features that would suggest the envelope had been sent either by post or via courier service. There was only his name, printed in clear, crisp letters on the front.

Pressing the intercom button, he summoned his secretary into his office.

"Yes, Mr Carver?" she asked. Carver indicated the envelope on his desk without actually touching it.

"Alison, where did this come from?"

"A woman dropped it off for you about an hour ago. She asked that you get it as soon as possible, that it was important information regarding Detective Goren."

Immediately, Carver's mind went on high alert.

"Did she give you her name?"

"I asked, but she refused to say. I got the impression that she expected you to know who she was without having to say so."

Carver's stomach rolled unpleasantly. He sent Alison back to her desk and then, taking extreme care to limit his physical contact with the envelope, he slit it open and up-ended it on his desk. To his surprise, and his relief, all that came out was a thin sheaf of papers. There were six pages altogether, five typed and one handwritten. Putting aside the typed pages for the moment, Carver read through the handwritten page with steadily increasing astonishment.

_Mr Carver, you will find in this envelope an opportunity to be somewhat more pro-active with regards to the welfare of Detective Goren. As much as I'm sure he appreciated your reading to him while he was in the hospital, it's time that you made an effort to render more practical assistance._

_I trust you will put to good use the information that I'm providing, and not allow it to go to waste. Bobby's future may well depend on whether you're willing to set aside your high moral standards for just a short time. Don't let him down, as so many others have._

Carver picked up the typed sheets and began to examine them closely. Less than five minutes later, he shoved all six pages back into their envelope, grabbed his briefcase and but ran from his office.

* * *

Alex looked up as a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee was set on the desk in front of her, the aroma bringing her out of the haze into which she'd descended after she'd started the paperwork, some of which had been waiting to be completed since before the attack on her partner. She looked up, momentarily confused, and then smiled gratefully at her benefactor.

"Thanks, Mike."

"No problem. I figure that should keep you going for at least half an hour."

She groaned softly.

"I'd forgotten how much paperwork I still had waiting. What I wouldn't give for a ritual burning right about now."

Mike chuckled as he sat down at the desk immediately behind hers.

"We've all wished for that at one time or another."

Alex smiled and was about to return to her paperwork when Deakins called to them from the door of his office. He didn't look happy at all, they both noted ruefully.

"Eames, Logan, Bobby's on his way up. Go and meet him, and bring him straight to my office."

Alex and Mike exchanged startled glances and hurried out of the bullpen to get to the lifts. They got there just as the doors slid open, and Bobby and Jo emerged.

"Bobby, what the hell are you doing here?" Mike asked.

"Hi to you too, Mike," Bobby retorted.

"Hey, pal, I'm happy to see you, but I think Deakins is ready to pitch a fit."

"Trust me," Bobby insisted, "I'm here for a reason. Alex…?"

She took hold of his arm, letting him know she was there.

"What's wrong, Bobby?"

"Take me to Deakins. He needs to hear this too, and I don't feel like repeating myself."

Alex glanced at Jo, but she said nothing.

"Okay," Alex murmured. "This way."

* * *

Deakins couldn't keep the frown off his face. As much as he wanted Bobby back on his team, having him turn up at One Police Plaza like this was not going to help anyone, least of all him. When the front desk had called him to say that Bobby was there, he had very nearly told them to refuse him entry. All that had stopped him from doing that was the knowledge that it would do serious emotional damage to the detective's already fragile mind.

As it was, he was going to have to make a sincere effort not to jump the gun and just rip into the guy.

Clinging to the thought that there was a logical reason for Bobby's unannounced visit, he watched darkly as Alex and Mike led the way into his office, while Jo guided Bobby and saw him safely into one of the waiting chairs.

"All right, Bobby," Deakins said in a forcibly calm voice. "What's this about?"

"Jo," Bobby said softly, "tell them what happened in the park."

Jo grimaced. Typical.

"We were in Central Park. I left Bobby sitting on a park bench while I went to get some water. While I was waiting, I looked back and there was a woman standing right in front of Bobby, just watching him."

Standing behind Bobby, Alex went rigid.

"A woman?"

"It was Nicole," Bobby confirmed. Deakins leaned forward a little, his animosity all but forgotten.

"She spoke to you?"

"No…" Bobby admitted.

"She bolted like a startled rabbit when I came back," Jo explained.

"Great," Alex muttered. "Just brilliant. This is all you need, to have that psychotic bitch floating around making trouble for you."

"I knew she wasn't dead," Bobby said softly. Jo looked from Alex to Deakins anxiously.

"I take it this is someone we need to be worried about?"

"If it really is Nicole Wallace," Deakins said grimly, "then yes. We assumed she was dead…"

"And we all know assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups," Mike cut in, earning himself a threatening glare from the captain.

"Shut up, Logan," Alex grumbled. "It was a reasonable assumption. Anyway, we don't know for absolute certain that it was actually Nicole."

Deakins slid open a desk drawer and pulled out a thick file, from which he produced a photo. Without saying a word, he passed it across his desk to Jo. She stared at it for a long moment before nodding.

"This is her. Her hair was shorter, and it was brown instead of blonde, but yes. This is her."

"You keep that psycho's file in your desk?" Mike asked incredulously.

"Yes," Deakins answered bluntly. He nodded towards Bobby and Alex. "And so do they. This woman wreaked havoc not once, but three times. We don't close the book on her until she's either locked up or on a slab in the morgue."

"And now she's back," Mike muttered. "Wonderful."

Deakins looked back at Jo.

"You say she was just watching him?"

"Yes. She looked like she wanted to speak to him, but she didn't. And when I came back, she looked at me for a moment before she took off. I… I could have sworn she was crying."

"Crying," Alex said scathingly. "Right." She shot Jo an angry look. "And you left him alone? In Central Park? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Alex, don't," Bobby murmured. "Jo was just getting some water. We, um… had an accident with a hotdog."

"That would explain the artwork on your shirt, then," Deakins commented with an amused grin. Bobby reddened a little.

"We're still working on our co-ordination."

"Okay," Deakins said as he slipped the file back into its place in the drawer. "I'll put out an alert that Wallace is back in town. Other than that, there's not a hell of a lot we can do, except to keep our eyes open and be on guard. Jo, if you see her again, let us know straight away and whatever you do, don't try confronting her yourself. She's dangerous, and not to be underestimated."

Jo nodded, looking nervous but sure.

"Understood. I'll keep a close watch, I promise."

Alex squeezed Bobby's shoulder lightly.

"If you'll give me a few minutes to finish some paperwork, I'll take you home."

Bobby nodded in wordless consent. Between his discussion with his psychiatrist, and the encounter in the park, his endurance levels had pretty much bottomed out for the day. He was ready to go home.

"Uh, where's the bathroom?" Jo asked, looking mildly embarrassed.

"This way," Mike told her, and led the way out of the office. Deakins waited until Mike, Jo and Alex, had left before getting up and walking around to sit beside Bobby.

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

Bobby's head turned a little in the direction from which Deakins' voice was coming.

"For what?"

"For jumping the gun about why you were here. I admit that I was angry. I thought you were just trying to worm your way back in, before you were ready for it. I should have known there was a genuine reason for you being here."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"I… I do want to be back. I know I can't yet… Not for a while… even if it weren't for my hands and my eyes. But… it doesn't stop me from wanting to come back."

Deakins smiled a little, encouraged by Bobby's words.

"I want you back on the squad too, Bobby. It's where you belong, and we both know that. You _will_ make it, but it's going to take time, and a lot of it. We all have to be patient, no matter how hard that it is."

A faint sigh escaped Bobby's lips as Deakins' words left him feeling almost sick with guilt. It was confession time…

"Captain… I asked Mike to let me help out with one of his and Alex's cases… without telling Alex. I… I'm sorry, sir. I just… I wanted to be involved. I wanted to prove that I can still be useful. I needed to prove it… to myself."

Deakins shut his eyes briefly, making a valiant effort to suppress his anger at the confession.

"When was this?"

"Not… Not quite a week ago. He went over some of the details with me last Sunday while Jo and Alex went out to get take-away. It was only the once. I mean, I asked Mike again a couple of days ago, but he said no."

Deakins suddenly found himself fighting off the beginnings of a migraine. He felt like one of his kids had just confessed to smoking a joint. He was going to kill Logan.

"Please, don't be angry with Mike," Bobby pleaded softly. "He was just trying to help me."

"I'm sure he was," Deakins sighed, "and I also know how damned persuasive you can be. Frankly, I'm surprised he had the gumption to refuse you the second time. Damn it, Bobby… Look, you have to step away from all of this. You know that. You have to focus on yourself now, and you can't do that if you're wheedling case information out of Mike or Alex. We both know how much you immerse yourself in an investigation, and you aren't doing yourself any favours by trying to do that now. Please… for your own sake… Take a step back now."

Bobby nodded, and his head dropped down noticeably.

"Okay," he conceded softly.

There was precious little life in the detective's voice. He sounded defeated… lost. Deakins hesitated, and then laid a hand gently on Bobby's shoulder, acutely aware at the same time of the way the detective tensed briefly at the contact.

"I'm not going to say that I understand what you're going through, Bobby, because I don't. But if you ever want to talk to someone who won't psychoanalyse every word that comes out of your moth, you know where to find me."

A small smile passed fleetingly over Bobby's lips, both in response to the gentle joke, and in appreciation of the sincere offer.

"Thankyou, sir. I… I know. I appreciate it."

Deakins nodded, and was about to suggest they go and meet Jo out in the bullpen when there was a single rap on the door, and Ron Carver walked in.

"Captain Deakins, I need to…" Carver trailed off abruptly when he realised who else was there. "Detective Goren… I wasn't expecting to see you here."

Bobby shifted slightly in his seat.

"It was an unscheduled stop."

"Well, I'll consider it a fortuitous circumstance. I had intended to come and see you next."

"What's this about, Ron?" Deakins asked. Carver pulled and extra chair over and sat down.

"Firstly, I don't want to alarm anyone, but I believe Nicole Wallace is around again. It appears you were right, Detective. She did attempt to fake her own death."

"We know already," Deakins said. "That's why Bobby is here. She showed up in Central Park this afternoon while he and Jo were there. I'm going to put out an alert."

"Yes, well, you may want to hear what I have to say before you put out the warning beacons."

Deakins stared at him blankly.

"Come again…?"

Carver lifted his briefcase onto his lap and withdrew a plain white envelope.

"This was left for me approximately an hour and a half ago, by a woman who refused to identify herself to my secretary."

"Nicole," Deakins said grimly. Carver nodded.

"I believe so, but that is not the important part. Look at this."

Deakins took the papers from Carver, and began to pore over them with a puzzled frown.

"What is it?" Bobby asked softly. He hated being left in the dark like this… pun not intended. He wanted to know what was going on.

"These are bank records," Deakins said aloud for Bobby's benefit. He looked up at Carver sharply. "Bank records for an account held by Simon Matic?"

"Precisely," Carver confirmed. "Take a good look at the last page, where it states the current balance."

Deakins looked, and his jaw dropped.

"That slimy son of a bitch…"

"We always suspected Mr Matic had a considerable amount of a money hidden away somewhere from the abductions he'd orchestrated, but we were never successful in locating it." Carver looked over at Bobby. "I couldn't honestly say what Ms Wallace's motivations might be in uncovering this information, but I don't believe that it's something we need to concern ourselves with, at least for the time being. The bottom line is that with the aid of a good lawyer, you should be able to mount a very good case in a civil trial. I think you have a very good chance to gain substantial financial compensation, enough to purchase yourself a new home, and effectively be financially secure for the rest of your life."

Bobby's breath escaped him in a rush.

"How much money are we talking about?"

"According to this statement," Deakins said, "Matic has nearly six and a half million stashed away." He looked over at Carver, puzzled. "Shouldn't you have taken this to Arthur Branch?"

"I did," Carver admitted. "He was of the same opinion as me, that this information would better serve Detective Goren than being filed away in our archives, gathering dust. Now, I can't take this on myself, you understand, but what I have done is contacted a colleague of mine, Samantha Denning, who specialises in this type of civil lawsuit. When I explained to her that it was for you, Detective, she quite literally jumped at the chance to help you."

"Why?" Bobby wondered, confused as to why any lawyer would be eager to help him. Carver smiled, interpreting Bobby's confusion accurately.

"Detective, as I said, she specialises in acquiring financial compensation for victims of crime, through civil lawsuits. As has been the case for myself, even though she is very good at what she does, over the past five years her job has been made considerably easier thanks to you. The confessions you've coerced over the years have allowed her to obtain substantial out of court settlements for her clients, thus avoiding putting them through the trauma of a civil trial. She wants to help _you_ now, Detective, and I think you're going to find that she'll insist on doing it _pro bono_."

Bobby was silent for a long moment before speaking.

"On one condition. That she includes Maggie Coulter."

Deakins and Carver both stared at Bobby in astonishment. Neither of them would dispute that Maggie Coulter deserved some form of compensation for her ordeal four years ago, but they also knew for a fact that she did not need the money. She, her sister and her mother were financially secure through trusts from each of her grandparents, and she was financially secure in a way that, up until now, Bobby could never have hoped to be. Carver, however, wasn't going to argue with him. Not there, not then.

"All right," he agreed. "I'll let her know." He rose up, at the same time shaking his head when Deakins tried to hand back the papers. "Keep them. Those are copies of the originals, which I've already forwarded to Ms Denning. She'll be in touch with you within the next day or two, Detective."

Bobby drew in an unsteady breath.

"Thankyou."

"My pleasure. I'm just sorry I haven't had the opportunity to do more for you before now."

"Was that all there was?"

Carver froze even as he started to turn towards the door. After a moment's hesitation, he looked slowly back at Bobby.

"How do you mean, Detective?"

"In the envelope that Nicole left for you. Was it only the bank statements? Or was there something else?"

Carver looked across at Deakins for help, less than willing as he was to tell Bobby about the note. Deakins offered little help, watching him silently, questioningly. Sighing, Carver sat back down. So much for a clean getaway.

"There was a note included for me. It basically said that I was being given the opportunity to provide you with practical assistance, and not to waste it."

"What the hell is she playing at now?" Deakins growled. "First she tries her damnedest to make your life a living hell, and now she's trying to help you? It doesn't make sense."

Bobby sat still, but Deakins could imagine the gears in his brain were working overtime as he worked the puzzle over in his mind.

"Jo said Nicole was crying… when she saw me in the park."

"Don't read more into this situation than what's there, Bobby," Deakins advised him. "We're going to take full advantage of this…" He rustled the papers for emphasis. "But we… _you_ owe Nicole nothing, and if she shows her face again, she _will_ be arrested."

Bobby said nothing. He had the powerful suspicion that it didn't matter. Nicole was not going to show herself again. Not to him, and certainly not to anyone around him. There could possibly be a phone call, or maybe a note, but that was all.

He couldn't be certain of her motives for providing the information about Matic's hidden savings, but he thought he understood all the same. Nicole saw him as her ultimate challenge – the one person who had seen through her… who had seen who she really was. It was why she had orchestrated the plot with Croyden and the anthrax. That had been exclusively about bringing him down, and she'd failed.

When Nicole had gone out the window with her latest lover, everyone had thought that was the end of her, but Bobby had always believed otherwise. He'd always believed in his gut that she'd be back, and he was right.

He wondered whether Nicole had been drawn back by the story of what had happened to him, or whether she had come back without knowing, with a new plot in mind, only to discover that her adversary was no longer capable of matching wits with her. He had no way of knowing, and he suspected he would never know. But he couldn't help but wonder all the same.

A hand on his shoulder drew him back to reality with a start.

"C'mon, you," Alex murmured as she urged him to stand up. "You can daydream all you like at home."

Bobby meekly allowed himself to be led from Deakins' office, nodding wordlessly in acknowledgement of the greetings from his Major Case colleagues. Just briefly, he was glad of his sightlessness. It meant he was spared from having to endure the looks that he was sure he was getting. As he was right now, without sight, he could pretend that no one was staring.

Deakins and Mike came with them down to the car park, Deakins explaining the new development to Alex and Jo as they went.

"That is great news!" Jo enthused as Mike helped Bobby into the front seat of the SUV. "Bobby, honey, that could put an end to all your financial worries!"

"I know," Bobby murmured, feeling less than enthusiastic. "It… It's good news."

"I tell you what," Mike said, "tomorrow's Saturday. How about I come by tomorrow night, and then the four of us can go out. There's this great bar that I know…"

"Thanks," Bobby murmured, "but I don't think it'd be a good idea."

"Newsflash, pal," Mike told him with a grin. "It's already planned. You don't have a choice."

Irritation flashed across Bobby's face, but he never had a chance to respond. There was a dull thump, followed by a yelp of pain from Mike.

"Hey, what was that for?" he protested.

"It was supposed to be a secret, idiot," Jo snapped. Bobby's frown deepened.

"What were you planning on doing? Kidnapping me?"

"Yeah, that's what we were going to do," Alex retorted as she slid into the driver's seat beside him. "Bobby, today is the first day you've set foot outside the apartment. You need to get out a bit, try and have some fun. It is still possible, you know."

He bit his tongue and held back from saying that he simply didn't feel like having fun.

"It's a trivia night, Bobby," Jo explained. "Mike signed us up as a team."

"Yeah, I figured we'd put that brain of yours to practical use," Mike said. "Instead of just whipping Jo at Trivial Pursuit, that is."

Deakins looked over at Jo, eyebrow raised. She smiled sheepishly.

"What can I say? I know you warned me, but I'm a sucker for a cute guy who asks nicely."

Bobby blushed red, but managed to maintain some dignity by keeping his mouth shut. Deakins laughed and pushed the car door shut once Jo was safely in.

"Alex, don't worry about coming back to the office now. I'll see you on Monday."

Alex nodded in gratitude, and proceeded to guide the SUV out of the car park.

* * *

"He'll be okay," Mike said quietly as he and Deakins headed back to the lift. "He'll enjoy tomorrow night, if we can just get him out the door."

Deakins chuckled.

"Well, good luck with that. I've never known a man with such a big stubborn streak."

"No? You don't know me too well, do you?"

Deakins' smile turned almost predatory as they stepped into the lift. He reached out and clamped a hand down on Mike's shoulder, with a grip that was more ominous than friendly.

"Maybe not, Logan, but all that's going to change. You and I are going to go upstairs, go into my office, and get to know each other a whole lot better. What do you say?"

Mike glanced uneasily at his temporary captain, visibly unsettled.

"Uh… Yeah… I think…"

"You can tell me about yourself… And I can tell you about the ethics of sharing case information with someone who is officially on sick leave."

Mike first went red, and then white as the implications of Deakins' words sank in.

"I didn't give him much," Mike protested. "Just a few minor things. I thought it might at least make him feel like he's still useful. That's one of his biggest fears at the moment, Captain. You know that, don't you? He feels useless, and it's killing him inside. Nothing I gave him was of any real consequence, and I think he knew that. It just helped, being able to give a bit of input. I didn't see what was wrong with that. I still don't see anything wrong with it."

Deakins let his hand drop from Mike's shoulder as he led the way back through the Major Case bullpen, and into his office.

"I understand that, Logan. I really do, and I appreciate that you've got that sort of consideration for Bobby. But it's not helping him, not in the long run."

Mike dropped into the chair opposite Deakins.

"Letting him know he's still useful to the squad isn't helping him? How do you justify a statement like that?"

"He needs complete rest, Logan…"

"And that's what? Doctor's orders? C'mon, Captain. You know Bobby even better than I do, and we both know that's a crock! The guy never stops thinking! Telling him he has to get complete rest is like telling a bird that it can't fly. It isn't what he needs. Not what he _really_ needs."

Deakins stared across his desk at Mike, his expression inscrutable. Mike shifted nervously, and spoke again in a last-ditch effort to defend himself and his actions.

"I'm not going to apologise, because I don't believe I did the wrong thing. You should have seen him, Captain. When we were talking about the case, it was like he literally came alive. You can't fake that sort of enthusiasm, sir. He doesn't need rest… not like his doctor thinks. He needs to feel like he can still make a difference. _That's_ what he needs."

Deakins drummed his fingers lightly on the desktop.

"This trivia night thing that you've set up…"

"I figured it was a good way to keep his mind active, and distract him from his problems for a little while."

"It's at a bar?"

"Yeah."

"You know he can't have alcohol at the moment, don't you? He's on a fairly potent cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics."

"Don't worry. We've already discussed it. None of us will be drinking anything stronger than coke."

Deakins regarded him piercingly.

"And who, exactly, is 'we'?"

"Me, Jo, Alex, Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson."

"Stabler and Benson?"

"We needed a team of six. I figured Bobby would be comfortable with them. Captain, if you really think it's not a good idea…"

"No, I think it's a great idea," Deakins interrupted him. "It's good thinking, Logan. Just… Be patient with him, please. It won't be easy to get him out of the apartment, especially now that he knows about it…" He trailed off, realising abruptly that Mike was grinning broadly. "What?"

"The trivia night isn't tomorrow night. It's tonight."

Deakins stared at Mike for several long seconds before sitting back and shaking his head ruefully.

"Mike… I was wrong. You don't have to worry about me. Bobby's going to kill you long before I have a chance to do a thing."

* * *

_That evening_

"Where's Logan?" Bobby asked as Jo guided him to a seat at their allocated table.

"I'm right here," Mike answered, leaning in close so that they wouldn't have to raise the voices significantly to be heard. "What's up, pal?"

"I just wanted to make sure you understood," Bobby told him. "As soon as my hands have healed up, I _am_ going to hurt you."

Mike grinned, until his gaze went to Alex, and took in the sympathetic expression on her face.

"He… uh… He's not kidding, is he?"

Alex shook her head solemnly.

"Nope."

"Great," Mike muttered, and parked himself conspicuously on the other side of the table to where Bobby sat.

"Hey guys," Olivia greeted them as she and Elliot arrived to complete the group. Elliot walked around and clapped a hand lightly on Bobby's shoulder.

"Hey, Bobby. How're you doing?"

"Aside from the fact that he's plotting to kill Mike for organising this?" Alex retorted. "Just wonderful."

"Go easy on him," Elliot said with a laugh, sitting beside Bobby at Alex's urging. "It was a good idea. A lot better than the usual Friday night 'go to a bar and get pissed' routine."

Bobby smiled a little, but didn't reply to Elliot's casual query after his health, and nor did anyone really expect him to. On the other hand, none of them missed the way that Bobby relaxed as Elliot settled in next to him. Any and all nerves seemed to be fading quickly as he realised that he was surrounded by friends, and had no cause to fear.

Maybe, he thought with a growing sensation of warmth, just maybe it was possible to have some fun after all.

* * *

The night progressed smoothly, with no hiccups and no upsets. As Mike had predicted, and everyone else had hoped, Bobby quickly got into the spirit of the evening and began to genuinely enjoy himself.

"Hey, this is great," Elliot said with a chuckle as the scores were read out, with their team well ahead of all the others. "Next time Munch wants to organise an inter-departmental trivia contest, we're hijacking you for our team, Bobby."

"Are you out of your mind?" Alex retorted. "You think we'd let SVU have him? Sorry, buddy, but he's all ours."

Bobby snorted lightly.

"Nice to be wanted."

Sudden silence descended on the table, and the other five exchanged uneasy looks as they tried to work out whether Bobby had been serious, or just joking with them. A moment later, Mike caught the slight twitch in the corner of Bobby's lips, and laughed out loud.

"Hey, you know it, Bobby. Told you this would be more productive than Trivial Pursuit."

"I'll say," Olivia said with a laugh. "But if we win…"

"If?" Elliot retorted. "What do you mean, 'if'?"

Olivia rolled her eyes as her partner's enthusiasm.

"_If_ we win, I say Bobby gets the pick of the prizes."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "I don't need anything."

"Don't be so quick, honey," Jo said, rubbing his back gently. "I noticed a voucher for a full massage in the first prize package. That would do absolute wonders for you."

"A full massage?" Elliot echoed. "I'd steer clear of that one if I were you, Bobby. You know what women are like when it comes to pampering. There'll be one hell of a catfight, I bet…"

A moment later, he yelped as someone's shoe connected with his shin under the table.

"Unlike most men," Olivia snapped, "women can actually come to logical, non-violent solutions."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "So… kicking him under the table proves what?"

A second later, it was Mike's turn to yell as Alex delivered a well-aimed kick to _his_ shin.

"Ow! Damn it… I think we're being ganged up on here, guys," Mike grumbled. Bobby smirked and chuckled softly.

"What do you mean, 'we'?"

"Oh no," Elliot protested. "No way, pal! You do _not_ get away with that. You don't abandon us to side with the women!"

"Never said I was," Bobby replied nonchalantly. "I just know when to keep my mouth shut. If you two idiots can't do that, then you're on your own."

"Traitor," Mike retorted. Bobby's smile widened a little.

"I prefer to think of it as being diplomatic. I knew better than to deliberately try and antagonise Alex even before I was living with her."

"That's true," Alex agreed, and Olivia patted her hand.

"You have him well-trained, don't you?"

"Mm-hmm. Now I just have to work on Mike."

"Okay, that's it," Mike stated, standing up abruptly. "We gotta regroup. Bathroom break. C'mon, Elliot. Bobby…"

"Uh… I don't need to…" Bobby started to protest, but that was cut short when Mike and Elliot all but lifted him out of his seat and herded him towards the bathroom.

"I thought we were the ones who were supposed to retreat to the bathroom en masse?" Jo mused.

"That's our guys," Olivia sighed comically. "Setting a whole new standard for men everywhere."

"Yeah," Alex retorted. "About five notches down from where they were before."

All three women laughed, and sat back to await the return of the men.

* * *

"You can't seriously expect us to believe that you never piss off Alex," Mike growled as they took refuge in the men's bathroom.

"I never said I don't piss her off," Bobby replied calmly. "I just said that I know better than to deliberately try. There's a big difference between intentionally trying to aggravate your partner, and having it happen unintentionally in the process of solving a case."

"Oh yeah?" Mike retorted. "Okay, smart guy, when was the last time you made Alex mad? And I mean really made her mad."

"Logan…" Bobby started to protest, but Mike cut him off.

"C'mon, humour me. I want to know that I'm not unique in my ability to annoy the crap out of her."

Bobby couldn't contain the grin that found its way onto his face at Mike's choice of phrase.

"Well, if you put it like that…"

"Yeah, I do. Spill it, pal."

"The, uh… The Tagman case. A guy was kidnapping and effectively lobotomising women. One woman died, and the other was left a vegetable. We later found out that he'd kept a piece of the dead woman's thigh muscle to cook and eat."

"Great," Elliot muttered. "There goes my appetite for the rest of the night."

"Carver didn't want a confession," Bobby went on quietly. "He wanted the hard evidence so he could demand the death penalty. Alex and Deakins agreed."

"And you didn't," Elliot guessed. Bobby shook his head slowly.

"No, I didn't. Tagman never intended to kill that woman. What he was doing was evil, and he needed to be locked up so he could never hurt anyone again, but he didn't deserve to die."

"Well, no wonder Alex was pissed off," Mike said. "Did she yell at you in private, or in front of the whole squad?"

"She never yelled at me," Bobby murmured. "She never raised her voice to me at all. That… That was how I knew she really was angry at me that time."

"Well," Elliot said with a wry smile, "I guess you really do know how to piss off your partner, then."

Bobby grimaced at the discomforting memory of the number of times that he'd landed on Alex's bad side.

"Oh yeah, trust me. I've just about got it down to an art-form."

* * *

_Later that night_

"Admit it, you did actually have fun tonight."

Bobby sighed softly in defeat at Alex's challenge as he settled down into bed after Jo had gone for the night.

"I had fun," he admitted. Alex smiled as she sat next to him, her arms protectively around his shoulders.

"I'm glad. Bobby, I know you're never going to be able to forget about what happened, but I hope tonight proved to you that you can still function more or less normally."

"Normal?" Bobby commented. "Since when was normal ever applied to me?"

She gently stroked his forehead in a soothing motion.

"You know what I mean. Don't twist my words around."

"I know," he murmured. "I'm…"

"And don't say you're sorry, either."

Bobby sighed again and felt himself relaxing against Alex.

"I wasn't going to say sorry."

"What is it, then?"

"I… I was going to say, I'm grateful."

She looked down at him curiously. He was almost asleep.

"Grateful for what, Bobby?"

"For… you."

And then he was out, his body relaxing completely as he slipped into a deep, restful sleep. Taking care not to jostle him too much, Alex shifted off the bed and tugged the blankets up to cover him properly. She crouched there by the bed, watching him for nearly five minutes before her thighs began to protest their position. Rising reluctantly, she took a moment to lean in and kiss him gently on the forehead before slipping quietly out of the room, and leaving him to sleep.

* * *

_tbc..._


	27. Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

_Two weeks later_

"So he's back in the hospital today, huh?" Mike mused as he and Alex waited for their order of coffee. Alex nodded, unable to completely conceal her worry.

"Tonight," she confirmed. "He'll be re-admitted late this afternoon. The surgeon's going to operate first thing tomorrow morning, and then it'll be another week before the bandages come off."

Mike grunted.

"Day of reckoning?"

"Effectively," Alex murmured. Mike looked at her quizzically.

"What are you scared of?"

"Aside from the obvious?" she retorted. When he didn't answer, she sighed and gave in. "What if, when they take off the bandages, he still can't see? Or what if he can see, but his sight is impaired? What then?"

Mike shrugged.

"I hate dealing in 'what ifs', Alex. Let's just wait and see what happens, and deal with it then. How's it going with that lawyer, anyway?"

"Sam Denning? She's good. She really wants to win it for Bobby. Apparently she's refusing to take on any other new cases until she's gotten what she calls a 'suitable win'."

"And that would be…?"

"Nearly everything in that bank account. And whatever she gets, it's all going to Bobby. She went to see Maggie and Susan Coulter, and they were willing to have their names included in the lawsuit to give it extra clout, but they don't want any money that might come out of it. They want it all to go to Bobby."

"That's pretty generous of them," Mike commented.

"Well, Maggie has a pretty hefty trust fund put away for her, courtesy of her paternal grandfather. She doesn't need the money. Bobby does. It's as simple as that."

"Mm," Mike murmured. "It's never as simple as that where money's concerned. Especially that much money. I bet Matic is fighting it."

"Yeah, but Sam is pretty confident she can get a good out of court settlement."

"Is that what Bobby wants?"

Alex hesitated in answering, easily reading between the lines of Mike's question.

"Yes… and no. I think that part of him hopes it does go to court, so that he can face at least one of the bastards. If it's settled out of court, then that's it. He'll never get that chance."

"He needs closure," Mike murmured, and Alex nodded in wordless agreement. He looked at her questioningly as they left Starbucks. "How's he been this week, anyway? I haven't had much of a chance to swing by to see him."

"He's been okay," Alex said. "That night out a couple of weeks ago really helped a lot. It made him realise that it is still possible for him to have fun, and forget about his problems for a little while. You know, he's let Jo take him out every day since then, and he's actually been enjoying it."

"That's great," Mike enthused. "I'm glad to hear that. If the trivia night hadn't worked, my next tactic would have been my foot up his ass."

Alex chuckled. "It'd be your funeral. His hands might be incapacitated, but he can still pack a punch… so to speak… with his forearms."

Mike smiled in mild amusement, quietly happy to have gotten even a small laugh out of his temporary partner.

"And not a peep from our resident psycho, Ms Wallace, either. This is a good thing."

"Yeah," Alex muttered, her features clouding over at the mention of the elusive killer. "I don't know whether to be happy about that, or worried."

"I know, never trust a lunatic."

"Never trust Nicole Wallace," Alex corrected him. Mike nodded.

"Look at it this way, Alex. She surfaced long enough to give Bobby a chance at giving his life a financial kick-start. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't be looking at a nice, healthy lawsuit payout."

"That's partly what worries me, Mike," Alex explained. "The last thing Bobby needs is for her to get some twisted idea that he owes her. Like the captain said, he doesn't."

"We're all keeping our eyes open, Alex. I don't think she will show herself again, but if she does, we'll nail her before she can get anywhere near Bobby. And in the meantime, it's a good thing that he's not thinking about her."

Alex gave a derisive snort.

"Are you kidding me, Mike? Do you really think he's _not_ thinking about her? After the way she tormented him? Trust me, he's thinking about her. Again, like Deakins said, we don't close the book on her until she's either dead or behind bars."

Mike watched her with a small smile.

"Which would you prefer?"

Alex regarded him with a poker face, and he chuckled softly.

"Okay, sorry. Dumb question."

"Can we change the subject, please?"

"Sure. So what are you doing tonight?"

It took Mike several seconds to realise Alex was no longer walking with him. Looking back, he found her standing frozen, staring at him with a mixture of disgust and disappointment.

"Bobby is going into the hospital tonight, Mike. How could you even ask that?"

Mike hesitated, and then walked back over to her, looking down at her with a serious, but sympathetic gaze.

"This isn't like when he was in the ICU, Alex. He'll be in overnight, operated on tomorrow morning, and probably home again tomorrow night. Simple, and straightforward. You aren't going to be able to sit with him all night."

"I didn't say I expected to be able to," Alex growled. "But I can't believe you expect me to go out with you while Bobby's in the hospital, waiting for an operation that may or may not give him back his sight…"

Her voice, which had steadily been rising in volume and pitch, was suddenly silenced when two hands abruptly descended onto her shoulders.

"Alex, chill," Mike told her firmly when she finally looked up at him. "All I was suggesting was dinner, and maybe a few beers later on. Nothing fancy, just something to take the edge off the tension. We can head to the hospital as soon as we clock off, stay with Bobby until visiting hours are up, and then go get something to eat. Face it, Alex, you've been working yourself into a panic ever since Bobby's doctor called a week ago to say that the surgery was being scheduled."

She sighed softly as she followed Mike into the lift.

"I'm just scared, Mike. I don't know what I'll do if I can't work with Bobby anymore."

"Okay… So, this isn't about him anymore. It's about you."

He looked down just in time to see her blush a deep red. Smiling sympathetically, Mike squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"It's okay, Alex. I understand. I know what it's like to lose a good partner, and I get that you're scared that you might lose Bobby. But even if that turns out to be the case, you're _only_ going to lose him as a partner, nothing more. You're still going to have him in your life. You're still going to be his best friend."

"I know," she mumbled miserably. "I know you're right. I just… I hate all the uncertainty."

"Well… Look at it this way, Alex. Considering how close we came to losing him altogether, I would personally be thankful for however things work out, because at least he's still with us."

Alex sucked in a sharp breath as she made a valiant effort to control her emotions.

"Mike, I thank God every day that he's still with us. Don't ever think that I don't."

He squeezed her shoulder once more.

"I know you do, Alex. You saw him in his apartment, didn't you? After his neighbour found him and called 911?"

She looked around at him as they sat down at their respective desks.

"Yes," she answered finally, softly.

"Well, I know how he looked when I saw him in the hospital, so I guess I can understand your fears."

"He was more than halfway dead, Mike. I've seen some awful things, but nothing compared to seeing Bobby like that… and _knowing_ what had happened to him. Now, every time I look at him, I can't stop thinking about how he looked when I saw him that night."

Mike regarded her piercingly.

"You still haven't talked to anyone, have you? Professionally speaking, I mean."

Alex stiffened visibly, but Mike also couldn't miss the way her cheeks flushed red yet again. He sighed softly.

"Alex, you know you need to talk to someone. You're not doing yourself or Bobby any favours by holding out."

Her gaze narrowed to pinpoints that all but threatened to impale Mike.

"Are you saying you'd tell Deakins?"

He didn't flinch in the face of her hostility.

"Are you saying you're not going to leave me any choice?"

For nearly a minute they stared at each other, caught in a stalemate. Then, finally, Mike's gaze dropped fractionally in concession.

"Look, Alex, we're adults, not kids in a schoolyard. I'm not going to tell on you. I just want you to get some help before it all gets to be too much for you. If it makes you feel any better, I'm talking from a purely selfish perspective. I like working with you, and I'd hate to see you stuck on desk duty because you were too damned stubborn to do the right thing by yourself. Hell, even Bobby isn't being _that_ pig-headed."

Alex found herself smiling before she could stop herself. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay, Mike. I'll call Dr Huang today. All right?"

Mike nodded, mollified by her reluctant compliance.

"All right."

* * *

"Well, hon, I think that's all you need."

Bobby turned his head slightly in Jo's direction, listening carefully to the sound of her voice from where he sat on his bed.

"Maybe we should go over it one more time…"

She laughed softly and sat down beside him, patting his hand reassuringly.

"Bobby, honey, you're only going to be in the hospital overnight. You'll be home again tomorrow night, and then you'll be on countdown until those bandages finally come off for good. We've got your pyjamas and your toothbrush. That's pretty much all you need, unless you've got a teddy bear hidden away here somewhere that you haven't told me about." He blushed furiously, but said nothing. Jo smiled, and slipped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him reassuringly. "There's nothing to worry about, baby."

"Easy for you to say," he mumbled, and tried to turn away from her, but she refused to let him.

"I know it's easy for me to say. But one of us has to try and keep a positive attitude. I know you're scared, Bobby. I don't blame you for that. But you need to find it in yourself to hope for the best."

"I want to," he told her softly. "I really do, Jo. But I… I _am_ scared. I'm so damned scared of what will happen when the bandages come off. What if I can't see?"

"We'll face that reality if it comes about. Try not to anticipate what's going to happen, Bobby."

He turned his face back towards her, bemused.

"So let me see if I have this down. Keep a positive attitude that everything will be okay… but don't anticipate what will happen."

She released him and smacked him lightly across the shoulder, drawing a broad laugh from him that, in turn, got her laughing as well.

"Smart ass. Think you're funny, don't you?"

"Well, you're laughing."

Jo snorted, but couldn't suppress the grin on her face or in her voice.

"You have a sharp sense of humour, Detective."

"Not as sharp as Alex's."

"Yes, well, I think you're a fast learner. C'mon, up you get. We have a few hours before you need to be at the hospital. There's time for a walk."

In stark contract to how he'd felt only a couple of weeks ago about going for walks, the thought of leaving the confines of Alex's apartment for just a short while to experience the fresh air, the brisk wind and the warm sun on his face now lifted his spirits more than he had ever thought possible. He truly looked forward to getting outside now, and he knew in himself that was no small achievement.

He allowed Jo to lead him out of the bedroom and over to the closet to get both their coats. Before Jo had the chance to take them out of the closet, though, they were interrupted by the doorbell.

"Damn," Jo muttered. "Who could that be?"

Frowning in annoyance, Jo led Bobby over to the table and sat him down before returning to the door. Upon opening it, she found herself face to face with a man of average height and immaculate, if otherwise ordinary appearance.

"Can I help you?" she asked, careful to hold the door at such an angle that he wouldn't be able to see Bobby. Since his homecoming, there had been a steady stream of reporters turning up at the apartment building, seeking an interview with Bobby. Though most had been halted at the lobby by the vigilant doorman, there had been the occasional one who had slipped the net and made it to Alex's door. This particular man didn't especially look like a reporter to Jo, but she wasn't taking any chances – especially not after the incident in the park two weeks ago.

The man pulled out an ID card and held it up for Jo to get a good look at. A quick perusal told Jo he was not a journalist, but rather a lawyer.

"My name is David Parker. You must be Ms Reilly, the home-care nurse employed to assist Detective Goren."

She didn't move, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"What do you want, Mr Parker?"

"I'd like to speak to Detective Goren, if that's possible."

"About what?"

"About his brother, Ms Reilly."

Where he sat at the table, Bobby felt his heart skip a beat or two. The last he had heard of his brother, Richie had been under intensive care in the high security ward at Bellevue, lost within the confines of his own sick mind. Beyond that, he'd heard nothing, and he cared even less.

"You want to talk to Detective Goren about his scumbag brother?" Jo growled. "The same brother that organised the attack that nearly killed him? Just what could you possibly want to talk to him about, Counsellor?"

"Please, Ms Reilly," Parker pleaded with her. "I don't want to cause Detective Goren any grief. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be here now. But I've been assigned to Richard Goren's case, and he demanded this. I don't have a choice. Please, can I speak to the detective?"

"Just wait here," Jo muttered. She closed the door, and then went over to Bobby.

"He's a lawyer, Bobby. He wants to talk to you about Richie. It's your call, honey. Just give the word, and I'll send him packing."

Bobby hesitated in answering. As little as he wanted anything to do with his brother, a small part of him was painfully curious about what Richie could want.

"Let him in," Bobby told her finally. Jo watched him for a long moment, trying to work out in her own mind whether it was a good idea. As she had said, though, it was Bobby's decision. If he wanted to let the lawyer in to talk to him, then it was not her place to gainsay him. Shaking her head ruefully, Jo let Parker into the apartment.

The lawyer took a couple of steps inside, and froze mid-step when his gaze fell on Bobby. His breath caught audibly in his throat for a second before he regained his composure.

"What did Richie tell you, Counsellor? That it wasn't as bad as everyone was saying?" Bobby asked softly. "That my injuries were exaggerated?"

"No," Parker answered, sitting down in the chair that Jo indicated to. "Everything he told me was accurate. I'm sorry… It's just a shock to the system to actually see the… the… to see you."

"This isn't a social call, Mr Parker," Jo said frostily. "We have a lot to do, and Bobby has more important things to concern himself with than his brother. Excuse me for not offering you anything to drink, but we'd both appreciate it if you'd get to the point of why you're here, so you can leave and we can get on with our day."

Parker nodded.

"Of course. Detective Goren, I'll put this plainly. Richie wants to see you."

Bobby sat frozen, his jaw visibly locked. After a long moment of silence, Parker tried again.

"Richie would very much like to see you, Detective Goren. I've spoken at length with his doctor, and he feels that it will be beneficial to Richie to have a visit from you."

"His doctor thinks that," Bobby said quietly.

"Yes," Parker confirmed.

"Beneficial to _Richie_."

"That's right," Parker agreed tentatively, suddenly sensing he'd over-stepped some invisible boundary.

Bobby let his breath out in a rush, suddenly hating that he couldn't even do something as simple as clench his fists but also knowing that had he been able to do so, it probably would have resulted in one lawyer with a severely broken nose or jaw.

"Get out," he said in a soft, threatening voice. Parker shifted uncomfortably, suddenly and acutely aware of his very tenuous position.

"Please, Detective Goren, just hear me out, and then I promise you that I'll go. Your brother's schizophrenia has been brought under control by a heavy course of medication. He's alert and currently in a very reasonable state of mind, and one major result of the medication he's on is his awareness of what he's done to you."

"He has no idea what he's done to me," Bobby said, a dangerous edge to his voice that Parker would have had to have been deaf not to hear. He hesitated, briefly contemplating the wisdom of bolting right then and there, before going on quietly.

"That may be so, Detective. You should know, though, that Richie understands that what he did hurt you very, very badly. I spoke with him just this morning, and I can assure you that he's literally sick with guilt over it."

"And you expect him to care?" Jo snapped. "Exactly what planet are you living on?"

Parker glanced at her, and then back to Bobby.

"Detective, I think your brother wants to tell you that he's sorry."

"And what makes you think I want to hear it?" Bobby asked hoarsely. Parker glowered at Bobby, suddenly aggravated that the conversation was not going at all to his liking.

"You have a schizophrenic mother who used to beat you when you were a child, and you don't harbour a grudge against her for that. Are you really going to abandon your sick brother now for the same reasons?"

"You insensitive son of a bitch!" Jo burst out. "How dare you make that sort of comparison!"

Parker glanced at her in frustration, and then back to Bobby.

"Look, all I'm asking is would you be willing to go to Bellevue to see him? Just once, that's all."

"Look at me!" Bobby choked out. "I can't see him, Counsellor. I literally _can't _see him, and that's _his_ fault!"

"He says he never meant for that to happen, Detective…"

"Bullshit!" Bobby exploded. "He meant for it to happen. Whether or not it was planned, he _meant_ for it to happen. He _meant_ for me to hurt as badly as possible. He _meant_ for me to die that night, and don't you fucking tell me otherwise. Now get out, and tell my brother that as far as I'm concerned, he can rot in hell!"

Parker looked over at Jo, only to encounter an equally angry expression.

"You heard him, Counsellor," she said, getting up and striding over to the door, opening it up wide in a decisive gesture. "Leave. Now."

Shaking his head, Parker got up and headed for the door. He paused on his way out, pushing a business card into Jo's hand.

"In case he changes his mind."

Then he was gone.

"Son of a bitch," she growled, looking down at the business card in disgust before shoving it into her jacket pocket. "Bobby…"

She looked around just in time to see him stumble back into his bedroom, pushing the door shut behind him. Sighing softly, Jo went after him.

* * *

She found Bobby lying on his side on his bed, barely visible tremors passing through his body. For nearly a minute, Jo stood indecisively by the bedside, trying to decide what action to take. Finally, she walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. She made no attempt to touch him, though, until she was sure that he was completely aware of her presence.

"Bobby, are you with me?"

"What… What does he want from me?" Bobby choked out. "He… He wanted me dead… He planned for me to be hurt like this… And now what? He wants me to forgive him? How can I? How can I forgive him, Jo?"

She shifted across and lay down carefully beside him, reaching over to stroke his forehead and cheek soothingly.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry I let that piece of scum lawyer in."

"I used to love him, Jo," Bobby whispered in between shuddering sobs. "I used to love Richie… I used to look up to him. There was a time when he looked out for me. Be… Before Dad left… One night, Dad came home drunk and mad… because he'd lost a lot of money on the horses… I got in his way somehow… and he started to beat me. Richie got between Dad and me… and he took the beating that was meant for me. He… He took it for me, and later on, he told me he'd always take care of me. He said… said we were brothers, and we owed it to each other to… to look after each other. We swore we'd always stick together… But he tried to have me killed… Jo, he swore he'd always take care of me, and then he tried to kill me… I can't forgive him for that. I can't ever forgive him for that…"

Jo slipped her arms around him as he dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs, barely aware of the tears that filled her own eyes.

"Let it out," she whispered, barely able to keep her own voice even. "Let it all out, baby."

She held him in comforting silence, waiting patiently as his sobs eased and finally faded away altogether, and his breathing evened out in a telltale sign that he'd given in to the emotional exhaustion. Then, only when she was sure he was asleep, Jo shifted quietly off the bed and slipped out of the room to make a phone call.

* * *

Elliot Stabler leaned back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head and his eyes closed, enjoying a rare moment of quiet. It had been a rough week all round, and he was seriously looking forward to clocking off. Which, by his calculations, was another hour, tops.

"You lean back any further, and you'll end up on your ass on the floor."

Elliot smirked, and didn't bother to open his eyes.

"Are you saying you won't be there to catch me, Fin? I'm shattered."

"Get over it. Where's 'Liv?"

"Clocked off early. Something about meeting some of her friends for a girls' night out. I wasn't asking for details."

Fin grinned as he dropped into Olivia's vacant chair.

"But I bet you will after the fact."

Elliot opened a single eye to look incredulously at his colleague.

"What, you think I have a death wish? I don't interfere in secret women's business, Fin. You ought to know better, to."

"Oh, I do, but I figure it never hurts to ask."

Elliot grunted as he let the chair drop back onto all four legs and stretched his arms out in front of him.

"You think so? Then you can go ahead and ask Olivia tomorrow."

"Yeah, right. Not in this lifetime, Stabler."

Elliot grinned and was about to push himself up to go in search of drinkable coffee when his desk phone rang. Frowning, he checked the caller ID before answering.

"That's Alex Eames' home number."

"She's still here talking with the doc, isn't she?" Fin asked in confusion, and Elliot nodded.

"Yeah, she is. And Logan is still downstairs chatting up Beth at the front desk." He hit the button, and at the same time put the call on speaker phone. "Stabler…"

"_Detective Stabler, this is Jo Reilly. You might not remember me, but I'm the home care nurse who has been looking after Detective Goren._"

Elliot looked over at Fin in surprise.

"Sure, I remember you, Jo. What's the problem?"

"_Well, I'm sorry to bother you, but I thought I ought to call someone, and your card was here. I couldn't reach Alex and Mike, and Captain Deakins is apparently in a meeting all afternoon. I just didn't know who else to call._"

Elliot felt a chill race down his spine.

"Has something happened to Bobby?"

"_Oh, no… At least, not like that. I'm sorry, I'm not being very clear. The thing is, you know that Bobby's brother is locked up in high security at Bellevue at the moment._"

"Yeah, until a place becomes available out at Stanhope."

"_Well, we had a visit a short while ago from a man called David Parker, who said he was Richie's new lawyer._"

Immediately, Elliot felt his mind kick into high gear as he ran through a dozen reasons why a lawyer representing Richard Goren would front up to see Bobby.

"What did he want?"

"_He wanted Bobby to go to Bellevue to visit Richie. Apparently Richie is on medication now, and he wants to see Bobby. The son of a bitch lawyer put a real guilt trip on him over it._"

Elliot took a moment to draw in a calming breath before speaking again.

"Where is Bobby now?"

"_He pretty much cried himself to sleep. I haven't seen him that distraught since he left the hospital. It was awful._"

"Okay," Elliot said quietly. "Alex and Mike and both here. They, uh … They're in a meeting right now. I'll let them know, and I'm also going to tell my captain what you've just told me, and then I'll be right around."

There was a long moment of silence, and then Jo spoke softly.

"_Thankyou, Detective_."

Elliot ended the call, and then stood up.

"Son of a bitch, what does he think he's playing at?"

"They could be hoping to guilt Bobby into a reconciliation of sorts," Fin mused as he followed Elliot to Cragen's office. "Then he could try for an appeal, hoping to get a favourable testimony from Bobby."

"If that's what he's thinking, then he's dreaming," Elliot growled. "Both Richie and his jerk-off lawyer. And they've totally underestimated how much this has shattered any sympathy Bobby had for Richie."

"You really going around there?" Fin asked. Elliot paused, his hand up to knock on Cragen's door.

"Yeah, I am. Why?"

Fin shook his head.

"No reason. You want me to find Logan, and tell him what's happened?"

Elliot nodded.

"Yeah, do that."

He watched Fin head back towards the stairs before rapping once on Cragen's door and heading inside.

* * *

Jo opened the door nearly half an hour later to find not only Elliot standing there, but Mike as well.

"We didn't tell Alex," Mike explained as Jo ushered them in. "She was in with Dr Huang, and since it's taken this long to get her to talk to someone…"

Jo nodded in understanding. "She would have dropped all that to come straight here."

"Detective Tutuola is waiting for her to finish up," Elliot told her. "He'll bring her straight here as soon as she's done."

"Well, thankyou both for coming so quickly," Jo said quietly. "I just didn't know what else to do."

"It's okay," Elliot reassured her. "I told Bobby any time, and I meant it. Is he still sleeping off the shock?"

"He's awake now, but he's still pretty upset. I just can't believe that man had the gall to come here and make a demand like that! And with Bobby supposed to go back into the hospital tonight…"

Elliot's expression darkened noticeably.

"That's right. He's having that operation on his eyes tomorrow, isn't he?"

"Yes, and his doctor isn't going to like it one bit if he's distraught like this when he gets there."

Elliot nodded. He understood what Jo meant. Bobby needed to be in a positive mood for the vital operation, otherwise it would put the entire procedure at risk of failure.

"All right. Let's see what we can do about that."

* * *

Bobby was sitting silently in the armchair by the window when Mike and Elliot entered the room.

"Hey, pal," Mike said quietly. Bobby's head turned slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Mike?"

"Yeah, it's me. Elliot's here, too."

"Jo called you?"

"Yeah, she called me direct," Elliot confirmed. He walked around and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to the chair in which Bobby was sitting. "I grabbed Mike, and we both headed over straight away."

"And if you're wondering where Alex is," Mike put in, "she was still talking with Dr Huang when we left. Fin was going to bring her over as soon as she finishes. Although, I kind of hope she takes a while longer. The sooner she gets here, the sooner she'll kill me for leaving her behind."

Bobby didn't smile.

"Jo told you what happened?"

"She said a lawyer showed up here and asked you to go to Bellevue to visit Richie," Elliot said simply. "She said you were pretty upset by it."

Bobby was silent for a moment before speaking again.

"He called me a hypocrite."

"A lawyer called _you_ that?" Elliot asked incredulously.

"Not directly… but that's what he was implying. He… He pretty much said that I had no business holding a grudge against Richie when I didn't hold one against my mother."

"There's a big fucking difference between your mother and your brother," Mike said vehemently.

"Is there?" Bobby asked softly. "They're both sick. Is there really such a big difference? My… My mom used to beat me when I was a kid. She claimed she could see the demons inside me, and she was trying to beat them out of me. She'd beat me, and then she'd lock me in the closet… sometimes for hours at a time. She frightened the hell out of me, and I hated her for that. But I understood that she wasn't in her right mind. Richie wasn't in his right mind, either. The only difference is that Richie wasn't diagnosed until now. So how can I forgive Mom… and turn my back on Richie?"

Mike and Elliot glanced at each other in silent concern, each one cursing the asshole lawyer who seemed to have successfully managed to mess up Bobby's already fragile state of mind. Leaning in closer, Elliot spoke slowly, at the same time silently praying for God to give him the right words.

"Bobby, listen to me. Yeah, your mom and your brother both hurt you, and they were both sick when they did it, but there _is_ a difference there, and it's a big difference. The difference is the _intent_. Your mom hurt you, but you know she never really meant to hurt you. In her warped reality, she thought she was helping you. She didn't realise that what she was doing was harming you. Her intent was good, even though the way she went about it was wrong. As for your brother, he didn't have some warped idea that he was helping you. He knew he was hurting you, and he _meant_ for that to happen. He _intended_ to hurt you, Bobby. That's where the difference is, and I know that _you_ know that."

"You don't have any reason to feel guilty for being angry at Richie," Mike said. "And God knows you don't have to feel guilty for not wanting to face him again. If, how and when that happens should be entirely up to you, and not some asshole lawyer. You're not the one in the wrong here, Bobby. You know that as well as we do."

"I do know that," Bobby admitted softly. "But… there's a big part of me that doesn't want to accept it. There's a big part of me that wants to give in to the guilt. I… I can't stop myself from thinking that somehow it's my fault."

"What's your fault?" Mike asked, frowning.

"Everything. Richie's schizophrenia… The assault… Everything."

"That really is bullshit," Elliot growled. "Bobby, you can't be held responsible for your brother, or for his actions."

"Maybe not," Bobby conceded, "but what if I'd agreed to act as a character witness for him that time, instead of turning my back on him? He might have gotten the help he needed then. And, he might have been diagnosed earlier. This… all this might not have happened."

"You could be right," Mike said. "In a perfect world, you would have testified for him and he would have gotten a suspended sentence, or maybe a community based order. He would have gotten the psychiatric help he needed, and everything would have been fine. Except, we don't live in a perfect world. Odds are, even if you _had_ testified, Richie would have gone on the same as he had, living in an escalating life of crime that, sooner or later, would have resulted in someone getting hurt. Then it wouldn't have mattered whether you stood up for him or turned your back on him. He still would have ended up in prison, and probably he still would have blamed you for that. Truth is, Bobby, I can't see a different ending for this no matter which way things _could_ have gone years ago."

"None of this is your fault," Elliot insisted. "You damn well know it. Whether you want to accept it or not doesn't change the facts, and the facts are that you aren't responsible for what Richie's done. So do yourself a big favour, and kick the guilt _and_ the self-doubt into the next millennium."

"It hurts," Bobby whispered. "It hurts so damn much. And I feel like Richie is still trying to put the blame on me, even though he dug his own grave a long time ago."

"He is trying to blame you," Elliot agreed. "He probably will always try to blame you. Probably figures that if he puts enough of a guilt trip on you, then he'll be able to sucker you into helping him out further down the track, if he appeals. The big question is, are you going to let him?"

Bobby drew in a long breath as Elliot's words sank in.

"No," he said finally, with a hint of determination in his voice that had long been missing. He sat forward slowly, not flinching when Elliot reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "No, I'm not."

"Attaboy," Mike murmured, stepping in to help as Bobby eased himself out of the chair. "Now, what can we do for you, pal?"

"Tell Jo to get out the coffee plunger. I need a really big, really strong cup of coffee."

* * *

Alex arrived nearly an hour later to a surprising sight. Bobby was sitting at the dining table with Jo, Mike and Elliot, and the four were laughing and talking as though nothing was wrong.

"Well," she said dryly, "and to think I thought something was actually wrong."

"Hey, Alex," Mike greeted her, throwing a sheepish smile in her direction. "Sorry about leaving you, but I just didn't think it was such a hot idea to interrupt your session with Dr Huang."

Alex walked around the table, pausing long enough to grasp Mike's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make him wince.

"Don't worry about it, Mike. We'll settle up later, I guarantee it."

Mike grimaced, and promptly decided he was in enough hot water without letting his mouth run away on him. He clamped his jaw shut and re-focused his attention on the coffee in front of him.

"And as for you," Alex murmured as she came around to stand beside Bobby. She slipped an arm gently around his shoulders, hugging him to her. "How are you feeling? Fin gave me the details on the way over."

"I'll be okay," he answered, a faint sigh escaping him as he took comfort from her embrace. "Thanks to Mike and Elliot, that is."

She heard the truth in his words, and looked up to see genuine expressions of concern on Mike and Elliot's faces. A relieved smile made its way onto her own face.

"Thankyou," she told them softly.

"Like I said before," Elliot answered, "anytime. Right now, though, I gotta get going."

"Fin's waiting for you downstairs," Alex told him, and Mike nodded in gratitude.

"Thanks. Mike, can we give you a ride home?"

"Nah, it's okay," Mike answered. "I was planning on sticking around for a bit."

Elliot nodded amiably.

"Okay. Bobby, Olivia and I will come by in the next day or two, if you like. And don't worry about that lawyer. Our ADA is going to get in touch with him, and have a little chat with him about going through the proper channels. He won't hassle you again."

Bobby gave a small nod.

"Thanks, Elliot. Again."

Elliot smiled.

"Hey, what are friends for? Catch you later, pal."

"You don't have to stay, Mike," Bobby said to his fellow detective once Elliot had gone. "We'll be heading to the hospital pretty soon, I guess…"

"I know," Mike assured him. "Truth is, I figured I'd come to the hospital with you, and hang around for a while, at least until we get kicked out by the nurses. Then, I'm going to take these two ladies to dinner, because I know damn well that neither of them is likely to feed themselves otherwise."

"Good," Bobby agreed.

"So you really are okay?" Alex asked him anxiously as she helped herself to the coffee before sitting down.

"Yes, and no," Bobby admitted. "I'm still angry that Richie had the nerve to send a lawyer here, but I'm feeling a bit better about the whole situation in general." He paused, then added softly, "It wasn't my fault."

Alex glanced questioningly at Mike, but he only smiled.

"Right," he confirmed. "None of it was."

"What did I miss?" Alex asked tentatively. Bobby drew in an unsteady breath.

"It all still hurts as much as it did before, but Mike and Elliot put it into perspective for me. I mean, they helped me put how I feel about Richie into perspective. Before, I was still feeling guilty about Richie's illness, even though I knew I didn't have any reason to. Now, I know I don't have to feel that way anymore."

As she sat there, Alex felt a wash of relief crash down over her and before she knew it tears were filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Leaning over, she slipped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him firmly.

"You've got no idea how glad I am to hear you say that, Bobby."

He rested his forehead briefly against hers.

"I think I might have some idea. I… I know I have a long way to go, but the strange thing is, the visit from that lawyer actually helped. It pushed me into being…"

"Proactive?" Jo suggested when Bobby hesitated. He nodded in agreement.

"Yes… proactive in dealing with how I was feeling about Richie. I feel like I took a step forward today. It… It's been a long while since I felt that way."

Alex sighed and kissed him lightly on the top of his head.

"I'm glad for you, Bobby. I really am. I hope you keep feeling that way."

He sighed again softly.

"So do I."

* * *

Sitting further down the table, watching the scene before them with a relieved smile, Jo reached over and clasped her hand over Mike's in a warm gesture.

"You did good, honey," she murmured to him. Mike smiled faintly in response.

"Anything for a friend."

* * *

_tbc..._


	28. One Step at a Time

_A/N: I am not going to apologise for what follows, as unpopular as it may make me with the Bobby/Alex shippers. But those of you who have read all of my stories will know that I do NOT subscribe to the OTP theory where Bobby Goren and Alex Eames are concerned. I happily read stories that have that focus, but I do not write them myself. The muse will go where the muse will go, and in this instance... well, read on, and find out for yourself._

_

* * *

_

Later that evening

Alex watched Mike surreptitiously over her coffee, trying to figure him out. Dinner at the little Italian restaurant that Mike had picked had been nice… pleasant. She, Mike and Jo had enjoyed a good meal and comfortable, friendly conversation that had been completely free of any innuendos, overt or otherwise.

After sitting with Bobby in the cold, sterile hospital room for nearly three hours, worrying about what the next day might bring, the time out had been just what she needed to soothe her frayed nerves. Between her session with Dr Huang earlier that day, and this pleasant change of atmosphere now, she felt calmer and more in control than she had since… well, since before the attack.

Jo had excused herself before dessert, leaving them along with a small, knowing smile, and that had immediately set the alarm bells ringing in Alex's mind. Despite her worries, though, Mike had continued to be a perfect gentleman and the conversation had been kept entertaining and clean.

She was sure he was interested, and yet nothing in his conduct towards her had given her any suggestion that he was planning anything. In all honesty, she felt a little disappointed that he hadn't made a move on her, but at the same time, she was grateful that he was giving her space and time, and not trying to take advantage of the situation.

Despite Mike's colourful reputation where women were concerned, so far he had not put a foot wrong with her, and the truth was she didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

"He's going to be fine, Alex."

She raised her head a little, smiling at him with the smallest hint of embarrassment.

"I know, Mike. But that actually wasn't what I was thinking about."

His smile widened just a fraction.

"I know it wasn't."

She blushed red, but made no attempt to defend herself. Mike indicated the small dancing area, and the band that was playing softly.

"Dance with me?"

She accepted, sighing just a little as his arms enclosed her and drew her in close. He was as good a dancer as Bobby, she thought with mild amusement. It was a surprise, but definitely a welcome one.

"Why haven't you…"

She trailed off, suddenly unsure how to proceed. He pulled back just a little, looking down at her questioningly.

"Why haven't I tried anything with you? Is that what you're trying to ask?"

Her blush deepened, but she held his gaze. He smiled down at her reassuringly.

"I like you, Alex, a lot. But I'm not an idiot, either, despite apparently popular opinion. I don't want to step on any toes, and I don't want to upset things between you and Bobby."

Alex's eyebrows shot up with amused surprise.

"Me and Bobby? Why would you worry about…" And then realisation dawned. "You think Bobby and I are sleeping together."

It was Mike's turn to blush in the face of the blunt statement. He half-expected Alex to walk away then and there, but instead she started to laugh softly.

"Okay, I'm glad you're not pissed at me," Mike said in bemusement as she giggled helplessly into his shirt, "but I'm kind of confused here…"

"We're not an item, Mike," she told him breathlessly. "We never have been. Bobby and I… We love each other, but not like that."

"You mean you two have never…?"

"No." She grinned sheepishly. "We did try once, mind you."

He couldn't quite hide his curiosity at that admission.

"You did?"

"Yeah, although _try_ is the operative word, there. It was about three years ago. It had been a rough couple of weeks, we'd had a few too many drinks and one of us… I can't remember which of us now suggested it, but I think it might have been me… One of us suggested that we might as well give substance to the rumours going around about us."

Mike nearly choked, setting off another fit of the giggles in Alex. She managed to regain her composure and go on after a minute.

"We… We kissed for a bit. We let our hands wander a little… and that was it."

"So, you're saying that you never made it past first base?"

"Not even close. We didn't even get our shirts off."

Mike mulled over that for a long moment. He was trying to picture it, but couldn't.

"What was it, that you couldn't...?"

Alex snorted. "More like, what _wasn't_ it."

"No spark?" Mike asked, and Alex grinned self-deprecatingly.

"Nada. It was like making out with my brother."

Mike snorted with laughter.

"And what about Bobby? What did he think?"

"Well, he spent about two minutes being embarrassed and trying to apologise before we both ended up laughing our heads off. We talked it over, and agreed that it just wasn't going to happen. After that, we just went from strength to strength in our partnership and our friendship, but we've never had the desire to test out the rumours again. We love each other dearly, Mike, but only as friends. That's the bottom line."

Mike fell silent, considering her words. Alex rested her head once more against his chest, giving him time to think it through. She wasn't quite sure what conclusion she was hoping he might come to, but she felt a small thrill of excitement rush through her as she silently considered the possibilities.

After a moment or so, she felt Mike's hand move from where it rested against her back, and lightly stroke her cheek.

"So…" he murmured, "if I tried to kiss you right now, I could be fairly sure that I _wouldn't_ get slapped for it…?"

She looked up at him, then, a mixture of surprise and hopeful expectation on her face. As soon as she turned her face upwards, he ducked down and pressed his lips against hers.

Alex gasped a little, feeling a bolt of pleasure and excitement that shot straight to her centre, triggering a range of sensations that she hadn't experienced for a long time. Her lips parted instinctively, and he accepted the unspoken invitation with enthusiasm.

Alex heard someone moaning softly, and couldn't be sure if it was her or Mike. Either way, she decided she hadn't been kissed as good as this for a long, long time. When Mike finally withdrew, she felt a surprisingly potent sensation of disappointment. He smiled down at her warmly.

"I think there was a definite spark in there somewhere. Don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Alex said hoarsely. "Definitely."

* * *

An hour later, they were back at Alex's apartment. When Mike made no effort to follow her in, though, she looked back at him, puzzled.

"Mike? Aren't you coming in?"

He smiled faintly.

"I'd love to, Alex, but not tonight. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to leave again."

She lifted an eyebrow at him.

"And who's to say that I'd want you to leave?"

He bent down to kiss her lightly.

"I really do like you, Alex, but I don't want to kick-start a potential relationship with you by making sex the foundation. I want it to go beyond that."

He kissed her again, more deeply this time, and hugged her tightly. She sighed softly, regretful but understanding. She also felt more than a hint of gratitude that he wanted more than a one night stand from her.

"Okay, Mike," she conceded softly. "Thankyou."

"For what?"

"For everything. For nothing. For just being here."

He smiled again as he hugged her to him.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

"Seriously," she murmured. "You came because of Bobby, at a point where our own squad couldn't even do the right thing and support him. I'll never forget that, and neither will Bobby."

"Yeah, well, against my better judgment, I do actually like the guy," Mike admitted. "When I first heard that something had happened to him, but no one knew what, I wanted to head straight back here to Manhattan. The only thing that stopped me was my captain. But then the rumours kept escalating, and finally someone said they thought he was dead. Then, I wouldn't have cared if I'd been suspended for it. I headed straight for One Police Plaza as fast as I could."

"Well, we both appreciated it," Alex murmured. She leaned upwards and kissed him gently on the mouth. "Mike, are you absolutely sure you don't want to come in? I really don't mind, and it'd save you coming to pick me up in the morning. We could go to the hospital together."

Mike groaned. He could feel his resolve crumbling, and struggled to maintain what determination he still had.

"Alex… do you think this is really such a great idea? You're emotionally overwrought right now…"

She kissed him again, teasing his lips lightly with her tongue.

"Mike, please… I _want_ the company. I don't want to be here on my own, where I can start thinking about everything could go wrong. I want _you_."

He regarded her amusedly.

"Is that all I am to you? A distraction?"

She kissed him again hungrily, and he had his answer. Giving in and letting reason fly out the window, he locked his mouth onto hers and walked her backwards into the apartment. The door closed behind them and, less than five minutes later, all the lights went out in the apartment, not to come on again until the next morning.

* * *

_The next morning_

Dr Greg Cutler emerged into the waiting room of St Clare's Hospital, searching out whoever might have been waiting for Robert Goren. There was a host of people there, however, making identification next to impossible. Approaching the information desk, Cutler was finally pointed in the direction of a group of nine or ten people, who sat together on the far side of the waiting room.

Grimacing, he straightened his coat and made his way over to them.

* * *

Alex sat silently in the midst of a small crowd of people, trying hard to block their nervous chatter out of her mind. Bobby had been in surgery for nearly four hours now, and she was starting to feel seriously scared. They had been told that the surgery would take perhaps two hours, tops. It should have been simple and straightforward. It was starting to make her physically sick with dread to think about what might have happened to drag it out for so long.

She glanced around in vague distraction as someone said something that drew laughter from everyone else, before sinking once more into her own world of worries.

She and Mike had arrived at the hospital ahead of anyone else that morning, and were just in time to see Bobby before he was taken off to surgery. He'd been quiet, very subdued, and Alex suspected that he hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep throughout the night.

It left her feeling guilty that, by comparison, her night had been pretty damned excellent.

They had been waiting for all of ten minutes after Bobby had been taken off to the OR when her parents, her sister and her two brothers had arrived, laden with thermoses of hot coffee and fresh bagels. She'd expected them to drop their load and depart again, but to her surprise, they had all ensconced themselves in the uncomfortable plastic chairs and settled in for the long haul, intent on waiting it out with her and Mike.

She had been surprised, but warmed by the realisation that they all cared enough about Bobby to stay.

Not surprisingly, her father had taken an instant liking to Mike, and the two men had soon been engrossed in each other's 'war' stories. Alex had paid little attention to them, until she overheard Mike telling not only her father, but her brothers as well, the story of how Bobby had saved their lives in the Staten Island prison. She'd been heartened by the enthusiasm with which Mike told the story, and then warmed even more-so at the realisation that it had been no play act on Mike's part the previous night when he'd told her that he really did like Bobby.

Half an hour after her family got there, Deakins arrived with Ron Carver in tow. That _had_ been a surprise, but then she reminded herself that Carver had sat with Bobby for the better part of a day whilst Bobby had been completely incapacitated with the tube down his throat, reading to him to keep him calm. So, really, it wasn't so surprising that Carver would be here now.

Then, perhaps forty-five minutes ago, Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson had arrived as well to lend their support. All up, Bobby now had eleven people waiting to learn how the surgery had gone.

Jo was taking the morning to see to personal business, but would be along later to see how the surgery had gone and to find out whether Bobby would be home again that evening.

"Hey," Mike said suddenly, nudging her gently. "Here comes a doctor."

Alex's head snapped up as a tall, dusty-haired man approached, eyeing the group with some hesitancy.

"I'm Dr Greg Cutler," he introduced himself to them. "You're the folks that are here for Robert Goren?"

To Alex's quiet amusement, her father spoke up before Deakins had the opportunity to say a word.

"Yes, that's right. How is the boy?"

Amusement creased Cutler's features at the idea of anyone referring to his forty-five year old, six foot four patient as a boy.

"Firstly, are there any family members here? Because I really ought to speak to them first."

Alex tensed at his words, but Mike's hand on hers stilled her sharp tongue. Satisfied that she wouldn't snap, Mike spoke up firmly.

"We _are_ his family, Doctor."

It didn't take much effort for Cutler to get the hint. Nodding amiably, he sat down to speak to them all.

"He's come through the surgery okay, but it wasn't all plain sailing. You probably gathered that already from the time it's taken."

"You ran into problems?" Carver asked, aware of the sudden tension around him.

"Yes," Cutler admitted, "but hear me out before you all panic. There were no problems when we opened his left eye, but it turned out that there was a small percentage of damage to the right cornea. Now, you know the eyes close instinctively to protect themselves, and that's what happened when Robert's left eye was burned. But I'm guessing that the shock and pain from that caused a delayed reflex when his right eye was similarly burned. Unfortunately, it wasn't picked up on the scans that were done on Robert's eyes a month ago."

"How bad is it?" Alex asked, barely able to keep her voice steady. Cutler favoured her with a reassuring smile.

"Not as bad as it sounds. The eye will heal. It's just going to take a bit longer than we thought. There's no reason at all why he shouldn't regain full vision in both eyes."

A sigh of relief swept across the group in a wave.

"Thank God for that," Deakins muttered, rubbing self-consciously at his eyes.

"Of course, his sight will recover in the left eye much sooner than the right," Cutler went on. "He'll probably need to wear an eye-patch on the right eye for a few weeks, and he will definitely need to wear dark glasses both indoors and out for a month or two at least. Probably longer. He's going to be incredibly sensitive to light for some time."

"But he's definitely going to be okay?" Alex pressed, and Cutler nodded.

"Yes. As far as his eyes are concerned, he should make a complete recovery."

Alex let her breath out in a rush, slumping against Mike in relief. He hugged her fiercely in return, genuine relief visible on his own face.

"Can we see him?" John asked.

"Just a couple of you for now," Cutler said apologetically. "He's still in Recovery."

After a brief discussion, it was decided that Alex and Deakins should be the ones to go and see him. Grateful for the consideration, they followed Cutler from the waiting room.

* * *

"Will he be able to come home this evening?" Alex asked as they walked. It was one of her greater concerns – she knew what another lengthy stay in the hospital would potentially do to his state of mind, no matter how good the care he was getting. Cutler looked apologetic, and she felt her hopes sink at the expression on his face. He wasn't going to say what she wanted to hear.

"Actually, I'd like to keep him here for a few days at the very least… preferably for a full week. I'm fully aware that it might not be a welcome directive with Robert, but I want to be sure that he doesn't contract any infections. And, I want to keep a close watch on that right eye."

"But he _is_ going to be fine?" Deakins asked, frowning. "You said he'd get his sight back."

Cutler hesitated, choosing his next words with care.

"There should be no physical reason why he wouldn't get his sight back."

Abruptly, Deakins understood.

"You're talking about psychosomatic symptoms now."

Cutler nodded.

"Yes, I am. I saw Robert this morning, a couple of hours before we began the surgery. His attitude… Well, all I'll say is that it wasn't encouraging."

"He's been through a hell of a lot, Dr Cutler," Deakins said, a touch defensively. Cutler conceded to that with a slight nod.

"I understand that. I really do. But it's not going to help his recovery if he sinks steadily into depression. It's staggering, the number of cases I've dealt with where the patient has physically recovered one hundred percent, but their state of mind has affected them so badly that it's as though they were still at square one. I don't want that to be the case with Robert. I want to keep him here for the moment not to monitor his physical condition, but his emotional one."

Alex drew in a long breath as she considered how to reply to that. She noted that Deakins was making no attempt to respond, but rather watching her to see how she'd react. Well, no big surprise there. Of the two of them, she knew Bobby the best.

"You're wrong," she said finally, bluntly. She thought she saw Deakins wince just slightly, but Cutler stopped walking and turned to face her. There was no anger in his expression or in his stance at her statement, just interest.

"How so?"

"Keeping Bobby in the hospital is only going to make things worse. If you want to see him actively try to beat the depression he's in, then let him go home. Today."

Cutler looked over at Deakins, who nodded in agreement.

"She's right. Bobby hates hospitals, and unless he really does need to be here, it will be detrimental not to let him go home."

"He'll have around the clock care while he's here," Cutler started to argue, but Alex cut him off.

"He'll have that at home. We have a home care nurse employed to take care of him. Jo's fully qualified to monitor all his medications, and if he does develop any sort of infection, she'll know. Please, he'll be so much better off at home. If you make him stay here, I guarantee his brain will start working overtime about everything that's gone wrong.. that could still go wrong."

Cutler raised an eyebrow at her.

"And he won't think like that at home?"

"He'll have constant company at home," Alex persisted. "Jo isn't just there to physically look after him. She's become a good friend to him, as well. She'll look after him as well as the nurses here can, and he'll at least be comfortable and safe."

Deakins shot her a look at her choice of words, but said nothing. Cutler considered it for a moment, and then nodded.

"Okay, how about a compromise? I'll keep him here just for tonight and providing there are no complications, he can be discharged first thing tomorrow morning. But on the condition that if anything goes even remotely wrong, then you bring him back here, _immediately_. All right?"

Alex and Deakins exchanged glances, and then Deakins conceded with a nod.

"All right."

* * *

He was still asleep when they walked in. Alex went straight up to the bedside and gazed down at him for a long moment before looking back to the doctor with a dark frown on her face.

"Restraints? You've gotta be kidding me!"

"They'll be removed as soon as he's alert," Cutler said. "It's for his safety. He's likely to be disoriented when he wakes up, and we don't want him hurting his hands through banging them against the bed rails... or worse, have him bang them against his eyes."

Alex drew in a long, calming breath. She had to concede that there was logic in that argument. Bobby's hands were in a fragile enough state as it was without him doing more damage to them while under the haze of anaesthesia. With some effort, she re-directed her thoughts.

"How long before he wakes up?"

"Any time now," Cutler reassured her. "The anaesthetic is wearing off as we speak. Once we're sure that everything is as it should be, then he'll be moved straight into a ward."

"Not ICU?" Deakins wondered, and Cutler shook his head.

"No. No need for that. He's doing well. We've got no concerns for his physical wellbeing. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some paperwork to deal with."

Deakins watched Cutler go, and then looked back at Alex. Her attention was strictly on Bobby by then. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.

"Alex?"

Slowly, reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from her partner, and looked back at her captain.

"What is it?"

He joined her at the bedside, taking a moment to think over what he was going to say before he actually said it.

"Why do you feel he wouldn't be safe here?"

Alex looked at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"You said to the doctor that if he'll let Bobby go home, then at least he'll be comfortable and safe. The comfortable bit I understand, but safe? What makes you think he'd be safer at home than here?"

She sighed and shook her head.

"I don't know why I said that." She paused, and then grimaced. "Yes I do. I'm being over-protective."

"No, you're not," Deakins corrected her lightly. "Protective, maybe, but not over-protective. And it isn't as though he would act any differently if your positions had been reversed."

Alex leaned across a little and gently brushed a stray curl away from Bobby's forehead.

"I still can't get my head around it all. Every night, I lie awake trying to understand, and I can't. I just can't fathom how anyone could do this to another person, let alone their own brother."

"I know," Deakins murmured. "It's hard enough to deal with when we're on the job, and it's complete strangers, but when it's one of our own, everything takes on a whole new dimension."

"It hurts," Alex whispered. "It hurts so much, and then I have to stop and think that if I hurt this much over it, then how much worse is it for Bobby? I don't ever want to see him get hurt like this again, Captain. I don't want to see him get hurt at all. And I don't know how I can stop it from happening! I'm terrified every time I'm away from him, that I'll get another phone call… and that this time it'll be to tell me that he's dead. I'm so damn scared for him that I can't sleep at night. And then goddamn Nicole Wallace shows up again…"

"She hasn't given us any indication that she wants to hurt him, Alex," Deakins reminded her. "As much as I hate to give her credit for anything, it's because of her that Bobby is looking at receiving a healthy financial settlement. We would never have known about Simon Matic's hidden millions if it weren't for her."

"I don't trust her," Alex insisted, and Deakins smiled wryly.

"None of us do. But we'll take it one step at a time, and at the moment she isn't presenting a threat to Bobby. If she really wanted to hurt him, she had the perfect opportunity in Central Park the other day. She could have killed him, and no one could have done a thing about it."

A rueful look settled on her face.

"You think I don't know that? I _know_ she could have killed him, and I'm still thanking God that she never tried to hurt him. But I still can't trust that she's not planning something."

"She only has to show her face again, and she'll be arrested," Deakins reminded her. "She's a wanted fugitive. That hasn't changed."

Any further comment Alex might have planned on making was effectively silenced when Bobby moaned softly through the oxygen mask.

"Hey," Alex murmured, lightly stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers. "Welcome back, sleepy."

Bobby mumbled something incoherent that was hopelessly muffled by the oxygen mask. Deakins looked around for a nurse, caught her eye and summoned her over. She rechecked his blood pressure and other vital signs before smiling and gently removing the oxygen mask.

"He shouldn't need this now, but we'll wait until he's a little bit more awake before we undo the restraints. I'll come and check on him again in ten minutes."

Then she was off to see to other patients.

"Bobby?" Alex asked softly. "You with us, partner?"

Bobby moaned again, but this time was able to form a halfway coherent sentence without the oxygen mask to frustrate him.

"Still… here."

Deakins laughed softly.

"That's good to hear. The surgery went well, Bobby. The doctor says you'll get your sight back, one hundred percent. It's going to be okay."

"Good," Bobby mumbled. "Wanna see again…"

He grunted slightly, trying to lift his arms, only to find he couldn't move them. Deakins reached over, and closed one hand gently over Bobby's shoulder.

"They restrained your arms, Bobby, so you won't hurt your hands. Just relax, everything's fine."

Bobby gave in with a slight shudder, and his body relaxed visibly on the hospital gurney. A moment later, he gave in to the exhaustion and slipped once more back into the painless relief of sleep.

"He out again," Deakins murmured after watching Bobby for a moment.

"He's going to be okay, though," Alex whispered, tears filling her eyes. Deakins nodded.

"Yes, he will. Are _you_ going to be okay?"

She nodded, rubbing fiercely at her eyes.

"I'll be fine. I'll be even better when we can get him out of this place, and home safe."

Deakins looked bemused.

"There's that word again… safe."

Alex scowled, even though she knew he was only teasing her now.

"So sue me for wanting to protect my partner. I already messed that up once. I don't want to mess it up again."

"Alex," Deakins sighed, slipping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her in a fatherly gesture. "When are you going to get it through your head that you didn't fail him? Unless you've developed psychic powers that no one else knows about, then there was nothing you could have done, and no way that you could possibly have known he was in trouble. Anymore than he would have known if it had been you."

She looked up at him tearfully.

"I know that as a fact. I just… I need time to be able to accept it in my own mind."

Deakins hugged her again.

"You'll heal, Alex, and so will Bobby. You'll both be right back where you belong before you know it. But right now, let's just take one step at a time. Okay?"

Alex looked back at her sleeping partner. One step at a time… That was all they _could_ do. Finally, she conceded with a tired sigh.

"Okay."

* * *

_tbc..._

_A/N: Not finished. **So** not finished..._


	29. A Visit in the Night

_A/N: Yes, I know what I said in an earlier chapter about You-Know-Who turning up again, but my muse is a law unto herself. You guys try arguing with a panther with really big claws. _

_Seriously, I was going to leave the option of changing this chapter open, but after consulting with another writer, I've decided that it stands as it is, and if no one likes it, then so be it. Basically, I need this chapter to be exactly how it is in order to trigger something that I have planned for a later chapter._

_

* * *

_

_That evening_

Bobby sighed a little as he shifted positions once more in a useless effort to get comfortable. He hated hospital beds - not least because they were generally too small for his large frame, but primarily because he'd already spent so much time in one. The fact that the mattress was too soft, the blankets were thin and scratchy and the pillows were too hard and lumpy didn't help much, either.

When Dr Cutler had broken the news that he had to spend a second night in the hospital, he'd seriously felt like crying. Right then, all he wanted was to get home and crawl into his own bed and sleep for the next two days. He'd gotten virtually no sleep the night before the operation – and the combined effects of a sleepless night and the anaesthetic had left him feeling completely drained.

Basically, though, he just wanted to go home.

Deciding that he wasn't going to get any rest in the narrow hospital bed, Bobby climbed carefully out and made his way over to the window. Fortunately, he had no IV attachments to be careful of.

There had been one earlier, feeding nutrients into his body, but that had been removed before dinner, when Alex's mother had come back to the hospital with a hot meal for him. The nurses had been bemused by the effort that had been made for him, but Dr Cutler had been pleased – particularly when Bobby had cleaned up just about everything on the plate, including the home-made bread and butter pudding that Helen Eames had brought for dessert.

Alex had made a last-ditch bid to get him home that night, but Cutler had remained firm; tomorrow morning, and no sooner.

Bobby sighed softly as he sank into the large armchair by the window, and managed to awkwardly drag a blanket from the bed up over himself. It was ironic that the visitor's chair was more comfortable than the bed. Still, he reflected, it could have been worse. It was only one extra night, after all. One long, lonely, miserable extra night…

He settled back in the chair, shivering a little from the cool atmosphere in the room. He wished he could see out the window, but then reminded himself that in just a week's time, he would be able to do just that. He grimaced a little. _Probably_ would be able to, he corrected himself.

Despite the doctor's reassurances, he was reluctant to get his hopes up. He wanted to see again, but he dreaded the thought of having the bandages removed only to find he was still blind. The thought terrified him, and it was all he could do to keep that terror at bay.

And that was just one more reason why he resented having to spend yet another night in the hospital. The lack of company left him with too much time to think, and too much time to dwell on all those fears and uncertainties.

Had he been at home, he would have only needed to call out and Alex would have been there. He had no such security here. The nurses were kind enough, but ultimately they were just doing their jobs. No more, no less.

A small smile creased his lips as it suddenly occurred to him just how much he'd come to consider Alex's apartment home. He was comfortable there. He felt safe…

A soft, bitter laugh escaped him. Safe. Would he ever truly feel safe again? Enough so to be able to function at a socially acceptable level? The truth was, he didn't know. It was a question that he simply had no answer to. After all, if all this could happen to him once, what was to stop it from happening again?

He had been betrayed by someone that he should have been able to trust with his life, and it was going to be very, very hard to put that level of trust in anyone again.

He laughed again, bitterly amused by the irony of his situation. He knew he'd always had trust issues, and Alex had spent the last four years or so steadily working on him, trying to show him that it was okay to put his trust in those around him. And she had been succeeding, too. Slowly, bit by bit, he had begun to open up. He trusted her implicitly – as partners, that was a given, but with them it went beyond that. He trusted her as a friend as well.

He trusted Deakins. They didn't always agree, but he respected his captain and trusted him to make the right decisions. Hell, he'd even trusted Ron Carver, even though they butted heads on a semi-regular basis.

But in one fell swoop, all that had effectively been destroyed. The efforts that Alex had made with him, all of it. Gone. It was a hurt that he didn't know how to recover from.

The sound of footsteps in the doorway of his room drew his attention, pulling his spiralling thoughts away from the oblivion that they had rapidly been heading towards. He said nothing as whoever it was – probably the night duty nurse – came into the room and walked around to him.

"Can't stand the bed," he mumbled by way of explanation. "This is more comfortable."

Nothing was said in reply, but a moment later two gentle hands removed the thin, scratchy hospital blanket, and replaced it with a large, warm quilt, draping it around his body so that it covered him completely from the shoulders down. Then, he was guided forward slightly by those same hands, and a pillow – full and soft – was slipped in behind his head.

Bobby was puzzled, but grateful. One thing was obvious, though. His mysterious visitor was no nurse.

"Who's there?" he asked tentatively, feeling like an idiot but suddenly needing to know. His question was answered with silence, and Bobby felt the first twinges of fear. Here he was, completely vulnerable, and there was a stranger right in front of him. Although, common sense reminded him that someone intending on hurting him probably wouldn't have given him a warm quilt and a pillow to begin with.

"Please answer me," he asked again softly. "Who's there?"

There was the sound of a sigh, no more than an exhaled breath, and then a familiar voice spoke.

"Hello, Bobby."

Bobby sat frozen, not knowing what to do or how to react. Finally, he spoke in a trembling whisper.

"Nicole?"

"Relax, Bobby. I have no intention of hurting you." There was a hint of mirth to her voice, as though she was surprised that such a notion might occur to him at all. She paused, and then spoke again. "Well, actually, that's not entirely true. When I came back to New York, I had every intention of hurting you, but someone beat me to it, didn't they? Your big brother Richard, no less…"

He winced a little, and she sighed again.

"I'm sorry. That was a low blow. Seriously, Bobby, I did have a plan. I had it all worked out. I was so eager that I went straight to your apartment to set it in motion. You can probably imagine my surprise when I got there to find it completely cleaned out and even more so when I tried unsuccessfully to find your new residence." She laughed softly. "I even staked out One Police Plaza to watch for you, but nothing. No sign of you, or your little… I mean, Detective Eames. And then, the story finally came out in the media."

"What do you want, Nicole?" he asked hoarsely. "Did you come to gloat? Go ahead. Gloat all you want. Laugh at me. I'm a wreck, a… a joke."

Her hand closed over his forearm, silencing him.

"Stop it," she told him softly. "Just… stop it. I don't want to hear you saying that. You're not a wreck, Bobby, and you mostly certainly are not a joke. You're just… going through a difficult time right now."

He could hardly believe what he was hearing and, for a moment, he almost convinced himself he was just having a very bizarre dream. Except, her hand on his arm was all too real, as was the scent of her perfume in his nostrils.

"A… a _difficult time_…? Look at me…"

"I am. You're still the same person you were before this happened."

He shook his head, and immediately regretted the movement for the sudden vertigo it induced. Groaning softly, he waited for it to subside.

"Here…"

He felt Nicole move, and a moment later a plastic cup was pressed lightly to his lips.

"It's only water," she said in a bemused voice when he hesitated. Shrugging off his doubts, Bobby took a slow sip of the water.

"I'm not the same," he whispered. "I'll never be the same."

"Maybe," Nicole conceded. "But whether that's ultimately good or bad… well, that's entirely up to you, isn't it?"

The bitter feeling that twisted inside his gut seemed to grow at her outwardly blithe words.

"Just like with you, Nicole?"

"I'll ignore that," Nicole murmured. "Look, I'll say what I came to say, and then I'll go. And I promise you'll never hear from me again."

"Why don't I believe that? You've got a golden opportunity here, Nicole. Go ahead, take your best shot! I can't fight back…"

"Oh, for God's sake, Bobby, stop being so juvenile. Why can't you get it through your head that I don't want to hurt you? If I'd wanted to, I could have done it that day in Central Park."

Bobby hesitated as he remembered Jo's description of Nicole.

"You… You were crying…"

"Yes, I was."

"For what? Lost opportunities?"

"For _you_, Bobby. For all that I've put you through, I would never have wished a fate like this on you. But if you don't want to hear me out, then fine. I'll just go."

He heard her start to move away from him, and was compelled to speak up.

"Wait."

"What is it?" she asked, her voice cool and emotionless.

"Tell me one thing," he asked tentatively. "Simon Matic's bank account… It was you who gave that information to Carver, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she admitted. "It was."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve compensation for what you've been through."

"I don't believe that's the reason."

"You think I passed on that information because I wanted you to owe me? No, Bobby. Consider it a small degree of compensation for my treatment of you. You owe me nothing."

"I find it hard to believe that, too."

"There is one thing I want from you," Nicole admitted, and Bobby tensed instinctively in anticipation. She smiled wryly. "Relax, Bobby. All I want is a promise that you won't hold on to your anger. That… That's where I went wrong. I held on to my anger, and used it as a weapon. Don't go down that path, Bobby."

"That's rich," Bobby said bitterly. "You, of all people, telling me to forgive."

"I wouldn't presume," she murmured. "All I'm saying is don't hate. For your own sake, don't hate. Even if you can never face your brother again, _don't hate_." She paused, and then added softly, "I know you probably won't believe me… and your partner and captain _definitely_ won't… but all I want is for you to recover from this, and get back to where you belong… with your squad."

"Chasing after you?" Bobby suggested dryly, and Nicole laughed softly.

"If that's what fulfils you. But I meant what I said. When I leave here, you won't here from me again. That's a promise I intend on keeping."

Bobby fell silent, unsure what to say. A moment later, he felt Nicole's fingers smoothing his hair back with a tenderness that belied her nature, and he had to struggle against the desire to cringe away from her. Nicole sensed his reticence, smiled sadly and withdrew her hand.

"I'm going now. Good luck, Bobby, and take care of yourself."

And then she was gone, and he was alone once more.

Bobby sat in silence for a long time after she'd gone, before emotion finally overcame him and he turned his face to the side and began to cry softly into the soft pillow. He eventually fell asleep, still crying out his heartache.

* * *

_tbc..._


	30. Helping Out

_St Clare's Hospital  
5.48am_

Deakins arrived at St Clare's Hospital just before six the next morning. He knew he was far too early for official visiting hours, but he also knew that Bobby would be agitating to get discharged as quickly as possible. He'd told the doctor the previous afternoon that he would be there good and early, and he'd meant it. He had no intention of making Bobby wait any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Truth be told, Deakins was actually enthusiastic to see Bobby, and clue him in on the plans for that morning. First, they would get the all-clear from Dr Cutler, get Bobby discharged and then make a new appointment for a week's time, when the bandages would finally come off.

After all that, he would then take Bobby over to One Police Plaza, to the Major Case squad rooms, where Bobby would spend the rest of the morning.

Deakins had spoken to Dr Thomas, Bobby's psychiatrist, a few days ago. He'd raised the concerns that Mike had had about Bobby's depression being caused partly by his lack of involvement with virtually anyone on a professional, occupational basis The psychiatrist had looked thoughtful for a minute before agreeing that it would be beneficial to start allowing Bobby a superficial degree of inclusion with the squad.

To that end, Deakins had decided to allow Bobby to assist with one of Mike and Alex's less urgent cases. There were audio tapes that needed to be listened to, and it was the perfect task, if Bobby was willing. Just quietly, he didn't think he'd have a problem with Bobby agreeing.

He'd spoken to Mike and Alex about it the previous day and, while Alex had just looked relieved, Deakins had been unable to miss the distinct 'I told you so' look on Mike's face. He'd done the only thing he could in response. He'd ignored it.

Smiling wryly to himself, Deakins walked into Bobby's room, only to be brought to a very abrupt halt by the sight that met him.

Bobby was not in bed where he should have been, but rather sitting in the visitor's chair on the other side of the room. He was fast asleep, and looking cosy and comfortable beneath a large, aquamarine-coloured quilt.

Baffled, Deakins approached his detective slowly, wracking his mind as to who might have given him the quilt. The only logical explanation that he could come up with was that Helen Eames had brought it in for him sometime last evening. It was, after all, just the sort of considerate thing she would have done, and God knew the hospital-issue blankets were less than satisfactory when it came to keeping warm.

He stood there watching Bobby in silence, intrigued by the peaceful air around the recovering detective. It was the most peaceful Deakins could recall seeing him for a long time. He was just contemplating whether to leave him sleeping, and come back a bit later, when Bobby stirred and awoke.

"Good morning," Deakins greeted him quietly. Bobby stiffened just fractionally, until he recognised the voice.

"Captain…? It's morning already?"

Deakins decided to take that as a positive sign that Bobby had actually gotten a decent amount of sleep through the night.

"Just on six," he answered. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay. I had a pretty bizarre dream, though." He faltered, slowly becoming aware of his immediate surroundings and, in particular, the quilt that covered him. "This… isn't a hospital blanket… is it?"

Deakins resisted the urge to chuckle as he replied.

"No, not by any stretch of the imagination. Do you know where it came from?"

At that, Bobby fell silent and Deakins felt the first twinges of concern.

"Bobby, answer my question."

There was a warning note to the captain's voice that demanded Bobby answer. After another moment, Bobby gave in and spoke.

"It was her," he said softly, feeling inexplicably ashamed. Deakins sucked in a sharp breath. He instantly knew what Bobby meant.

"Nicole Wallace was _here_? Goddamn it, I should have put a guard on your door…"

"Captain, she didn't hurt me. She… She said she wanted to… to help me."

"Help you? You're kidding, right?"

"She didn't hurt me," Bobby repeated softly. Deakins drew in a calming breath before speaking again.

"All right. Tell me exactly what happened."

Over the next several minutes, Bobby described his midnight encounter with Nicole. Deakins listened in grim silence, waiting until Bobby had finished before responding.

"She actually said she was going to leave you alone? Pardon my scepticism, but I'll believe that when it happens."

Bobby shifted a little, his attention going to the quilt.

"She… She said that… she'd planned to come after me again… but when she found out about what had happened, she changed her mind."

"And you really believe that?"

Bobby sighed a little.

"No," he admitted. "But I think maybe she does. I… I think she will come back sooner or later, but she'll stay away for now."

"Well," Deakins conceded wearily, "that won't be such a bad thing. All right. We won't dwell on it for now. But tell me, what do you want done with this?"

He indicated the quilt, and wasn't surprised that Bobby hesitated in answering. No matter who had given it to him, it was still an apparently well-intentioned gift. And yet, all hell was likely to break loose when Alex, in particular, learned where it had come from.

"I tell you what," Deakins said finally, "how about we keep it between the two of us? If anyone asks, someone brought it in for you, and you don't know who it was. You were asleep at the time."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. That line would work for just about anyone except the one person who was likely to really lose it over the idea of him keeping a gift from Nicole Wallace.

"I can't lie to Alex, Captain."

"So don't. Just don't give her the whole truth. Think of it as acting diplomatically."

Bobby didn't quite know whether to laugh or grimace.

"She'll know. She always does."

Deakins smiled, and clapped Bobby lightly on the shoulder as he stood up.

"She's not going to push hard, Bobby. Not at the moment. Take advantage of that. If she does, though, _I'll_ talk to her. Okay?"

Bobby felt an unsettled sensation deep in his gut at the idea of Deakins going into bat for him against Alex over Nicole Wallace, but he pushed it aside. He understood Deakins' intentions, and he appreciated it.

"Now," Deakins went on, "what say I find a nurse to help you get dressed, so that you'll be ready to go as soon as Dr Cutler gives you the all-clear?"

Bobby nodded gratefully.

"Yes, thankyou. That would be good."

* * *

Nearly an hour later, after a light hospital breakfast and an amused Dr Cutler's agreement that Bobby could go home, they were finally on their way.

"I'm not taking you straight home, by the way," Deakins told him once they were on the move. Bobby inclined his head slightly, puzzled.

"Where are we going?"

"To One Police Plaza. I was hoping you might be willing to help out with some evidence that Mike and Alex haven't been able to examine yet."

"What evidence?" Bobby asked, barely able to smother his sudden eagerness. Deakins heard it regardless, and gave a silent cheer.

"Audiotapes that were made during a three day surveillance," he explained. "We can't even tell you what you'll need to be listening for, but the flat truth is that no one else in the squad has hearing like you. If there's something on those tapes, I don't doubt you'll find it."

Bobby let his breath out slowly, his heart pounding. The idea of being able to do something productive, rather than sitting around all day… the feeling of being useful again… gave him such a huge feeling of relief that he could barely keep it in.

"I… I'd like to help out… if I can."

Deakins grinned.

"I thought you might."

* * *

By seven-thirty a.m., Bobby was comfortably ensconced in one of the smaller task rooms, listening to audio surveillance tapes. He was still there, having not moved an inch, when Mike and Alex arrived back from interviewing witnesses nearly three and a half hours later.

"I see you got him to agree to listen to the tapes," Alex said wryly as they joined Deakins in his office. Deakins laughed.

"Did you seriously think for a second that he'd refuse? If his eyes weren't bandaged, I'm sure I would have seen them light up. He could hardly wait to get in there and start listening."

Mike smirked.

"Hey, didn't I say this was what he needed? To be included? To feel useful again?"

"Okay, Mike," Deakins growled, resisting the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation. "You were right. Duly noted. Alex, when is Jo likely to get here?"

"Probably around noon. Why?"

"I just wanted to be sure he doesn't try to push himself beyond his limits. Right now, I think Jo is the only one of us who can tell him to his face that he's done enough. She'll know when he needs to stop, and she'll make sure that he does."

Alex nodded her agreement.

"That's true. Captain, how was he this morning when you got to the hospital?"

Deakins couldn't keep the wry smile off his face.

"He was fast asleep."

Alex's jaw dropped.

"Asleep? You're kidding! Did they sedate him?"

"No, no sedation. He wasn't in the bed, though. I guess at some point through the night, he climbed out of bed and resettled himself in the visitor's lounge chair."

Mike grunted.

"Hell, no wonder he slept better. Those things are a hundred times more comfortable than hospital beds."

"But he must have been cold," Alex said with a frown. Deakins shook his head, and indicated to a corner of his office. Both Alex and Mike looked, and quickly saw what he was pointing to.

"A quilt?" Alex asked, and Deakins nodded.

"He was covered with it when I got in there this morning."

"Where did it come from?" Mike asked as Alex walked over and lifted up a corner of the quilt. Deakins hesitated in answering for just a fraction of a moment, and Alex's head snapped around as she levelled a suspicious look at the captain.

"Captain? Who gave it to him?"

In that instant, Deakins suddenly understood what Bobby had meant when he'd said that he couldn't lie to Alex. Her gaze was like a drill, boring straight past the casual facade he was trying to maintain. After nearly half a minute locked in a mental stand-off, Deakins finally caved.

"Mike, shut the door."

Mike did so after exchanging a suspicious look with Alex. Deakins waited until they were both seated once more before going on quietly, his gaze focused for the most part on Alex.

"Bobby had a visitor last night."

The words were barely out of his mouth before Alex first went white with shock, and then red with anger.

"It was her, wasn't it? Nicole Wallace! Goddamn her, why can't she leave him the hell alone?"

"Alex, shut up and listen," Deakins ordered firmly, and his authoritative tone quickly silenced her. He continued speaking quietly and calmly, trying to convey by his tone as well as his words that there was no cause for alarm.

"It looks like she is intending to leave him alone," he told them. "At least for the time being, anyway. When she went to him last night, it wasn't to gloat. Bobby told me everything that happened. He doesn't believe that she wants to hurt him, and neither do I."

"And what about that?" Alex asked tensely, looking back at the quilt. "I suppose that was a gift?"

"She left it for him, yes," Deakins confirmed, and both Alex and Mike snorted with derisive laughter.

"Oh, this is priceless," Mike said scathingly. "She tries three times to damage him emotionally and bring him down, but all of a sudden she wants to kiss and make up? Give me a break! I may not be the smartest cop in the city, but even I wouldn't fall for that! If I were you, Captain, I'd be getting that quilt tested by Forensics."

Deakins sighed.

"If it makes either of you feel any better, I spoke to Mack Taylor as soon as we arrived this morning. He came up here himself to check it over thoroughly, and it's clean – inside and out. She wasn't trying to kill him with kindness."

"Cute," Mike retorted, but Deakins smirked unapologetically.

"He's not keeping it, though," Alex said firmly. Deakins focused a firm look at her.

"Alex, does it have to matter where or who it came from? It was a gift, nothing more or less. It kept him warm and comfortable, and it made last night tolerable for him. If he associates that quilt with anything from now on, it'll be that. Not that it was given to him by the likes of Nicole Wallace."

Alex shook her head.

"This is insane."

"Maybe," Deakins agreed. "But it's got to be Bobby's decision whether he gets rid of the quilt. We can't force him to give it up and, in all honesty, I don't think he wants to."

Alex opened her mouth to protest again, but Deakins cut her off.

"Don't make me resort to emotional blackmail, Alex. I really don't want to have to go that far."

She stared at him incredulously.

"There is a quilt… _a quilt_… on the floor there that was given to Bobby last night by Nicole 'I'm a psychopathic killer' Wallace, and you have no problems with him keeping it? Excuse me for asking, Captain, but have you had too much coffee this morning?"

Mike winced a little, expecting Deakins to explode. To his surprise, the captain actually laughed.

"Funnily enough, Alex, no. I haven't. Look, I know it's a bizarre situation, and so does Bobby. He'll be the first to admit to that. But there was no harm meant. Can you accept that?"

Alex sat in silence for a while, staring intently at the floor.

"I don't like it," she said finally, tersely. "But I guess I can deal with it. Bobby only has to say the word, though, and that thing is going in the incinerator."

Deakins chuckled softly.

"Try not to think too hard about where it came from. Now, go and see how Bobby's doing with those tapes. Then, when Jo gets here, we can all go to lunch together."

* * *

"Try not to think too hard," Alex muttered as she and Mike left Deakins' office. "He's got to be kidding."

"He's right, though," Mike mused. "What does it matter? I know it sounds nuts, but if Bobby doesn't associate it with Wallace, then it shouldn't matter to us."

Alex shook her head.

"Just the thought of him having anything that came from that woman… It turns my stomach, Mike. But I said I can deal with it, and I will. I won't give Bobby a hard time over it if he really does want to keep it. But if anyone else wants to know where it came from, _he_ can damn well explain it."

Mike chortled softly to himself as he followed her into the task room, where Bobby was still engrossed in the surveillance tapes.

"Bobby?"

How he heard her through the volume of sound that was coming through the headphones, Mike had no idea, but his head came up all the same in response to Alex's voice. Certain that she had his attention, she switched off the machine, and gently lifted the headphones off his ears.

"Having fun here?" she asked, not quite able to keep her voice completely free of irritation. Bobby's head tilted just slightly in puzzlement, and then understanding dawned on his face as he placed the reason for her aggravation.

"Deakins told you."

"Yes, he told us," Alex confirmed. She fell quiet, watching and waiting to see what he would say.

"I'll… get rid of it… if you want me to," he said finally, sounding both embarrassed and disappointed at the same time. Mike coughed loudly in a futile effort to hide his amusement. Alex looked up at him sharply.

"What are you laughing at?"

Mike shook his head in denial, but couldn't suppress a grin any longer.

"You two. It's no wonder you make good partners. You can read each other's minds, even when you're not in the same room."

Alex flashed Mike an irritated look before returning her attention to Bobby.

"Answer me honestly, Bobby. Do you want to keep it?"

He hesitated in answering, though. He knew how he wanted to answer, and he was suddenly, starkly afraid of how she'd react.

Hands suddenly cupped his cheeks, mildly startling him. Then, warm, soft lips brushed over his forehead, soothing his nerves in a tender, affectionate gesture.

"Don't be afraid to be honest with me. I'll only be angry if you hide from me."

He sighed faintly, conceding.

"Yes, I want to keep it."

Alex nodded placidly, and Mike was quietly impressed once more at the way she kept her cool, despite her vehement objections in Deakins' office.

"Okay, then. We'll keep it." And then, abruptly, she switched subjects. "How are you going with the surveillance tapes? Anything grab your attention?"

"There are couple of things, about an hour in on the second tape. You'll need to rewind it a little…"

Over the next half hour, Bobby pointed out several moments on the tapes that Mike and Alex needed to be aware of, including suspicious background noise. When he'd finished, Mike nodded, impressed.

"That's great, Bobby. You've just made our jobs about ten times easier."

Alex snorted.

"Uh huh. You just didn't want to have to listen to those tapes."

"Hey, damn straight," Mike confirmed unapologetically. "And why should I have to when we have the magic ears to do it for us?"

Bobby smirked a little, appreciative of Mike's humour.

"It's okay, Mike," he said. "Being able to listen is a skill that not all cops have. You don't have to be embarrassed."

Mike shook his head in mock exasperation.

"I go into bat for you, and all I get for my trouble are insults. Nice."

Alex raised an eyebrow at Mike, but he only grinned back at her and she visibly relaxed. Mike had taken Bobby's comment in the light-hearted way that it had been meant, and was only responding in kind. It was deeply reassuring to Alex to see that Bobby felt inclined to engage in a bit of verbal banter, and she was grateful to Mike for his willingness to take up the challenge and be a friend to the recovering detective.

"So how _are_ you feeling?" she asked quietly. Bobby hesitated for just a moment before answering honestly.

"A little tired… and my head's starting to hurt. I… I've appreciated being able to do this…"

"But you'd like to go home," Alex finished off for him. He nodded wearily.

"Yes."

Alex reached out and gently smoothed back a wayward lock of hair.

"Jo will be here soon. Then we'll take you home. Okay?"

Bobby sighed softly with relief.

"Okay."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Bobby was sitting by while Jo spread the quilt over his bed.

"It really is gorgeous, Bobby," Jo said admiringly, "and so warm! This will be an absolute blessing with the weather turning cold again."

"You like it?" Bobby asked, and Jo nodded.

"Definitely."

"Well… You can have it… if you want it."

Jo looked around at him, startled.

"What? No! Honey, it's yours! It was a gift…"

"From Nicole Wallace," Bobby pointed out. "Alex isn't happy that I'm keeping it, and I guess I can't blame her. It… It'd probably be best to just get rid of it."

"She'll get used to it," Jo said dismissively. "And anyway, when you eventually get a new place of your own, you'll definitely want it, then. Don't worry yourself about it."

Bobby fell silent, and when Jo looked at him again she couldn't help but notice his unsettled mood. Straightening the bedcovers, Jo then took Bobby's arm and guided him gently back out into the living room, and over to his armchair.

"Sit down, honey. There you go… Now, do you want coffee?"

"Yes, please," Bobby answered. "I'd forgotten how bad the squad room coffee is."

Jo laughed as she set about making fresh coffee.

"It can't be that bad. Jim said you had three cups while you were there."

"Nostalgia," Bobby suggested, and Jo snorted with laughter.

"Nostalgia. Nice one. Next you'll try telling me the straw you were using neutralised the taste."

He grinned, but offered no response. Jo brought a mug of fresh coffee over and held it to his lips so that he could sip at it. When he'd had a few mouthfuls, she set the mug aside and spoke quietly.

"You seem troubled about something, Bobby. Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't answer immediately, and she waited patiently for him to think through what he wanted to say.

"The quilt…" he said finally. Jo watched him with a sad thoughtfulness.

"It's really got you in a bind, hasn't it?"

"It's just… Alex…"

When he faltered, she reached across and grasped his hand reassuringly.

"You don't want any rifts, do you?"

"No," Bobby admitted. "This is her home… I just don't want there to be any trouble between us."

Jo sighed and shifted over to sit carefully on the arm of the chair, and gently drew him to her in an affectionate embrace.

"Oh, baby. You really are worried about that, aren't you? Listen up, then. Alex is a much better person than that. She's not going to hold it against you for wanting to keep a gift. Especially one as practical as that quilt."

"It's just, I have pretty much nothing now," Bobby confessed in a trembling voice. "Richie, Matic and Cozza saw to that. And then… when I was in the hospital… it hurt, knowing that other patients had family and friends to be with them, and to bring stuff in for them so that they wouldn't be lonely… or so miserable. It hurt a lot, because for a while, all I had was Alex, Lewis and Captain Deakins… and out of them, only Alex was there with me all the time. Then the squad got together, and got those books for me. That was good, but it wasn't something I could hold on to. No one brought me anything that I could hold on to. Even with my hands like this… I just wanted something to hold on to, especially later on, when they moved me out of ICU, and I couldn't have anyone stay with me through the night anymore. I just wanted some… some…"

"Security and comfort?" Jo suggested softly as she wiped at the tears that fell down her cheeks.

"Yes," Bobby whispered. "Those last few weeks in the hospital were the worst, Jo. Every night was horrible… being left alone. Having to go back into the hospital for my eyes… It was that all over again. Being alone in an unfamiliar place, not having anything of my own with me to make it any more comfortable. When Nicole put the quilt over me, it… it just didn't seem so bad all of a sudden. And… and I managed to get to sleep because of it. It helped… a lot. And… I just don't want to give it up, because it's the one tangible this I've been given that I can kind of hold on to."

He shook his head a little, frustrated by his perceived inability to explain himself properly.

"I… I know I'm not making a lot of sense."

Jo hugged him fiercely. She was crying freely now, and making no effort to stop.

"You're doing just fine, baby."

Bobby leant into her embrace, wishing bitterly that he could return the hug.

"That quilt was like having a physical reminder that someone does actually care… like getting a hug when I needed it most, even though there was no one there to give it to me. When I had that quilt around me, I didn't feel alone anymore."

Jo kissed him gently on the top of the head.

"I understand, Bobby, and so will Alex. You tell her exactly what you just told me, and I promise you she'll understand. It's going to be okay, honey. I'm sure of it."

Bobby shuddered a little against her, feeling a not-so-small weight lift off his shoulders.

"Thankyou, Jo."

"You're welcome, baby."

* * *

_tbc..._


	31. A Difficult Decision

_A week later  
5.30 am_

Bobby shifted in bed, rolling from one side to the other restlessly as he tried unsuccessfully to settle down and sleep. There was no question that he was tired, but he just couldn't seem to relax. He thought he knew why, though. Tomorrow (or rather, today, as he figured it was probably well after midnight) was the Big Day, the day that the bandages were supposed to come off his eyes.

Make or break. The beginning of fresh hope… or the end of everything. God, what a depressing thought that was.

Groaning softly, he flopped over onto his back with a soft thud. If he didn't quit rolling around, he was going to end up waking Alex. Then she'd insist on him taking a pill to help him sleep, and he really didn't want to take any medication solely on that reasoning.

Not unexpectedly, his equally restless mind began to wander, thinking of the past week, and all that it had brought – the good, and the not so good.

To his delight, the morning he had spent at One Police Plaza had not been a once-off consideration. Every day that week, Jo had taken him in to the Major Case Squad rooms, where he had spent three or four hours assisting Alex and Mike with one or more of their cases. Those hours spent going over evidence, and talking the cases through with them, had been the happiest that he'd experienced for a long time. He felt needed again, particularly when he was able to point out tiny, yet important aspects that Alex and Mike had overlooked. Hearing the genuine gratitude and appreciation in their voices had warmed him, and left him feeling hopeful that maybe, just maybe, all wasn't lost after all.

Then, to add to that good feeling, the news had come through that Sam Denning had gotten Matic and his lawyer to agree to a financial settlement, and a substantial one at that. She wouldn't confirm figures until the settlement was official and signed off on, but she reassured him that it would effectively put an end to all of his financial worries.

Bobby had been surprised that Matic had given in so quickly. Just quietly, he had expected it to drag on for months. Not that he wasn't happy with the outcome – he was. He just couldn't help being surprised at such a quick result.

The money, Sam had told them when she came to see Bobby and give him the good news, would go into a special trust fund for him, and he would then receive regular monthly payments from that trust fund for as long as it took to pay the money out.

Though she refused to specify an exact amount, Sam had told them confidentially that Bobby could expect a payment of somewhere between six to eight thousand dollars every month which, unless he was planning to live beyond the age of one hundred, would continue for the rest of his life.

Alex and Jo, he reflected with a wry smile, had almost been happier about that particular news than he was. Alex had announced that as soon as the settlement was through, she and Jo were going to take him shopping. All the women had then been reduced to fits of laughter at the pale shade of green that Bobby had gone. His dignity had been saved only by the presence of Mike Logan, who had firmly stated that shopping for men's clothes was far too personal a matter to be placed in the hands of a bunch of hysterical women, and that if anyone was going to take Bobby shopping, it would be him.

Bobby recalled the slightly jarring sound of Alex's front door slamming shut as Mike bolted from the apartment, probably just in time to avoid being hit by one of the not-so-soft cushions from the sofa. He smiled wryly to himself. It wouldn't be the first time Alex had resorted to throwing cushions. He'd been the unfortunate target himself many a time for opening his mouth at the wrong moment.

Later on, when all had settled down, Bobby had convinced himself that Mike's words had only been in jest. The very next day, though, Mike had taken him aside at One Police Plaza and quietly affirmed what he had said the previous day, promising to help Bobby shop for anything and everything he needed once the first payment of the settlement came through. He'd agreed with deep gratitude, on the condition that Mike allowed him to repay the favour further down the track in some way, when he was able.

Sure, Mike had agreed flippantly. Whatever. Maybe Bobby could come across to Staten Island some time, and shout him to a few shots of whiskey off the clock. Bobby had smiled in response, waited until Mike had returned to work, and then had Jo take him in for a private, closed-door chat with Captain Deakins about Mike's situation; not to mention the fact that one of Major Case's senior detectives was planning to retire within a couple of month's time, leaving an opening for a new detective.

That had been the good, in a nutshell.

The bad had come in the form of yet another request from Richie's new lawyer that Bobby go to see his brother at Bellevue. This time the lawyer had had the nerve to show up at One Police Plaza with a formal request in writing, intending to hand it directly to Bobby. He'd been cut off at the pass, literally, by Mike Logan and Captain Deakins.

Bobby remembered with absolute clarity the furious sounds of his captain bellowing at someone. It was hard to miss – Deakins rarely lost his cool under any circumstances, and to hear him really yelling in anger was enough to send everyone within earshot scurrying for cover. He'd listened at the door of the task room, fascinated, as Deakins read the riot act to the lawyer, and by the time he was done Bobby suspected that the man would think twice about setting foot on the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza again.

Unfortunately, the lawyer had still had peace of mind to pass on a letter, addressed to Bobby, from Richie. Little though he liked it, Deakins had been obliged to read the contents of the letter to Bobby, who had listened in silence with a worrying calm.

The letter's contents were much the same as the verbal request that had been made a week ago, and Bobby recalled Deakins' reading of it with a distinct feeling of nausea.

_Dear Bobby,  
__I want you to know I'm sorry for what I've done to you_…  
_Please come and see me_…  
_I need you to forgive me_…  
_I'm so sorry_…

Bobby didn't think he'd ever heard such an enormous load of crap in his entire career as a cop.

In the end, he'd given no indication of what he thought of the fresh request, refusing to talk to anyone about it – including his psychiatrist. The truth was, Bobby already knew what he was going to do about his brother's repeated requests to see him, but he could do nothing until the bandages came off his eyes.

Until then, Richie… _and_ his pain in the ass lawyer… would just have to cool their heels and wait for a response.

Bobby sighed softly, and sat up awkwardly in bed. It was no good, he was wide awake and lying in bed was only irritating the hell out of him. To top it off, his eyes were starting to burn with irritation from the bandages. For better or worse, he was going to be damned glad to get them off.

He lifted his right hand cautiously, touching his fingertips to the bandages. His right hand was healing well, so he'd been informed at his last follow-up appointment. Many of the broken bones were well on the way to healing and, subsequently, the splint and the thick compress bandages had been removed from that one hand and replaced with a simple plaster cast. His fingers protruded from the end, allowing him the ability to start using the sense of touch once more, at least with one hand.

He still couldn't do anything practical with his hands yet, but it was a start, and Dr Craig seemed to think that in perhaps another four or five weeks the plaster would be ready to come off his right hand and wrist, and he could start physiotherapy. The prospect of the pain that the physio was going to cause did little to dim his relief at the thought of getting the use of at least one hand back.

More than anything else, it represented the possibility of getting back at least some degree of his independence – something that had been completely and utterly stripped away from him in the wake of the attack.

A slight frown flickered across his lips and his train of thought was effectively derailed as it gradually registered in his mind that he could feel something wet and somewhat sticky as he touched the bandages that covered his eyes. That wasn't right… Feeling his heart pounding in his chest, he touched his fingertip to his tongue, and tasted the sour, metallic flavour of blood.

"Alex…" Bobby called out shakily as panic threatened to take hold. "Alex…?"

He heard movement through the wall that separated their bedrooms, followed by a slightly grumpy-sounding voice.

"I'm coming, Bobby."

A moment later, he heard her voice in the doorway.

"What is it? Did you need to use the bathroom?"

Bobby struggled to draw in an even breath.

"Something's wrong. My… my eyes…"

In the doorway, Alex frowned and reached for the light switch. There was a flare of light, momentarily blinding her. Then, as her sight adjusted, she finally got a good look at her partner and her face quite literally drained of colour.

"Oh my god…"

"What is it?" Bobby asked, more than a hint of panic in his voice. Alex strode over to him, gently taking his arm and urging him to his feet.

"Bobby, we have to get you to the hospital. _Now_."

"In our pyjamas…?" he asked, his sense of propriety leaving him feeling embarrassed.

"Yes, in our pyjamas. Here…" She grabbed his robe and helped him to get it on, and then guided him to put on his slippers. "Bobby, your eyes are bleeding. Both of them. Now, c'mon. I'll call Dr Cutler on the way."

* * *

Alex had been waiting for nearly half an hour when Captain Deakins finally arrived with his wife, Angie. She looked up as they approached, tears stinging her eyes.

"I'm really starting to hate this place," she said bitterly. Deakins sat down beside her, slipping one arm gently around her shoulders.

"What happened?"

"I was asleep… Bobby called out for me. He sounded scared. I went to see what was wrong, and when I turned on the light… His eyes were bleeding. The bandages, they were all soaked through with blood. It was horrible." She shook her head in distress. "It's not fair! Why can't something go right for him for once?"

"Hey!"

The three looked around as Mike trotted across the floor to where they sat, worry etched onto his face.

"What's happened?" he asked, looking anxiously from Alex to Deakins. Alex looked at Deakins questioningly, and the captain shrugged unapologetically.

"I called him, straight after you called me."

She conceded with a sigh, and spoke as Mike sat down opposite her.

"Bobby's eyes started bleeding. I had to get him here fast."

Mike nodded nonchalantly, eyeing her pyjamas, robe and slippers in open amusement.

"That would explain the fashionable attire."

She glowered at him, in no mood for jokes.

"Screw you, Logan."

"Have you seen the doctor since you brought him in?" Angie asked in concern, anxious to put a dampener on any potential tension between the two detectives before it exploded in their faces. Alex shook her head.

"No. No word. All we can do is wait."

"Okay, then," Mike conceded. "I'll go get the coffee. Who wants what? Black and three sugars for you, Alex?"

She smiled at him gratefully.

"Thanks, Mike."

He smiled back at her in what he hoped was a comforting way.

"Anytime."

* * *

It was another forty-five minutes before Dr Cutler finally emerged into the waiting room, and made a beeline directly for the small group.

"How is he?" Deakins asked, unable to conceal his anxiety. Cutler smiled reassuringly and indicated towards the doors that led out of the waiting room.

"Why don't you all come and see for yourselves?"

* * *

Cutler led them past the ER and into a separate room that was only very dimly lit. Bobby sat on an examining table, facing away from the door. Concern overcoming caution, Alex hurried around to see him, and skidded to a halt, her eyes going wide with surprise.

Deakins, Mike and Angie all walked quickly around, and soon saw what Alex was seeing. The bandages were gone, and Bobby's eyes were open.

"Bobby…?" Alex asked softly. He blinked once, and a small smile lit up his face as his gaze focused on her.

"Hi, Alex," he said softly.

She stumbled forward, throwing her arms around him and crying with relief, and Bobby hugged her back as best as he was able.

"So it wasn't serious at all, then?" Deakins asked. "The bleeding, I mean?"

"It could have been, if Alex hadn't been so quick in getting Bobby back here," Cutler answered. "But no. It was effectively his body's attempt at flushing out his eyes, getting rid of the last of the impurities, so to speak. Because Alex got him here so fast, we had no problems washing his eyes out and, as you can see, this is the result."

"You really can see me?" Alex asked, cupping his cheeks gently.

"It's still a little blurry," Bobby admitted, "but yeah. I can see you."

"It will take a little bit of time for your vision to recover to full strength," Cutler went on. "As I said, I want you to wear an eye patch on your right eye for at least a month, and wrap-around dark glasses at all times during the day. You did get a pair?"

"We got him a pair," Alex confirmed, and Cutler nodded his approval.

"Good."

"I really have to wear them indoors as well as outdoors?" Bobby asked plaintively. Cutler levelled a hard stare at him.

"Yes, indoors as well as outdoors. No excuses, Bobby. You are not to take them off during the day for any reason, and if you take them off indoors at night time, you're to make sure the lights are sufficiently dimmed. Otherwise, you wear them at night, as well. I don't think you quite understand just how sensitive you're going to be to light, and I don't want you taking any chances with your vision. It isn't worth the risk. And if you start to feel impatient about it all, just stop for a minute and remind yourself how hard it was for you _not_ to have any sight at all. Okay?"

Bobby nodded very slightly. He was too relieved at the positive outcome with his sight to even want to argue with the doctor.

"Okay."

* * *

"I don't have to stay here, do I?" Bobby asked tentatively as Cutler carefully fitted an eye patch over his right eye. Cutler smiled wryly.

"No, you don't. Not at all. As soon as I can get you a fresh lot of antibiotics from the pharmacy, Alex is welcome to take you home."

The relief on Bobby's face was palpable, and drew smiles from everyone present.

"Thankyou."

* * *

"You know what I'm really looking forward to?" Bobby asked softly when, just under an hour later, he and Alex were on their way home again. She glanced across and smiled fondly at him. Seeing him sitting there, taking in his surroundings with a fresh enthusiasm, gave her a thrill that she couldn't begin to describe. She could almost pretend that their lives were finally back to normal. She could almost pretend that the horrific attack had never happened… that they were perhaps just on their way to an early morning crime scene…

And then he looked around at her, and the sight of the scarring around his eyes, not quite concealed by the dark glasses, jolted her painfully back to reality.

"What?" she asked, making a concerted effort to keep her voice even and calm. The last thing she wanted was to upset him by letting him catch a glimpse of her distress. It was with some effort that she didn't grimace. Now that he _could_ see again, she was going to have to work even harder at that.

"Putting a face to Jo's voice," he answered, looking both happy and sheepish at the same time. Alex laughed.

"I think she's been looking forward to that, too. It's going to be a surprise for her when she sees… Oh no…"

"What is it?" Bobby wondered, put on edge by the sudden anxiety in her voice. "Alex…?"

"It's Jo," Alex explained, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "I was in such a damned panic this morning that I forgot to call Jo to let her know what was going on. She'll be at the apartment by now, probably wondering what's going on. Damn it…"

"I think she'll understand," Bobby murmured, looking away out the window again. "Alex, can I ask you something…?"

"Sure."

"When this money comes through, to start with it's only going to be in monthly instalments. Sam said that if I want to be able to buy a new home, then I'll have to put in a special application to get a lump sum… either for a deposit, or to buy somewhere outright. It… She said it could take a while for it to come through."

Alex couldn't keep the smile off her face. She knew without him actually asking just what he was trying to find the words to say.

"Bobby," she told him, "you can stay with me for as long as you want. I don't want you thinking you have to rush out to find somewhere else to live, because you don't. You're welcome to stay as long as you want to. Not for as long as you need to, but as long as you _want_ to. Understand?"

Bobby nodded, letting his breath out in a rush. Hearing those words from her own lips was a huge load off his shoulders.

"Thankyou."

She reached over and gently squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"You're welcome."

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were back at the apartment, Alex opening the front door and ushering Bobby through. They'd barely stepped over the threshold when Jo's voice floated out to them from the kitchen.

"Alex? Bobby?"

"It's us," Alex called back, exchanging knowing smiles with her partner. "We had a bit of an emergency early this morning. I'm sorry, I completely forgot about calling you."

"Oh, it's okay," Jo said dismissively as she emerged into the living area. "Just as long as there's no…"

She trailed off, staring at Bobby in wide-eyed surprise. A long moment later, her face lit up like a beacon.

"Oh my gosh… look at you! Bobby, you've gotten rid of the bandages! And you can see?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, smiling in response to Jo's exuberance. "I still have to wear a patch on my right eye for a while, and I have to keep the dark glasses on, but yeah… I can see."

Jo leaned forward and hugged him warmly, taking care not to come over as too enthusiastic. She was acutely aware of his ongoing reticence when it came to physical contact, and the last thing she wanted was to unsettle him when he was clearly feeling happy for once.

"So, what happened this morning, then?" she asked, returning to the kitchen to make coffee while Alex helped Bobby to sit at the table. "An emergency, did you say?"

Alex looked over at Bobby, eyebrow raised questioningly, silently asking if he wanted to tell Jo himself, or whether she should.

"It was my eyes," Bobby spoke up tentatively. "They started bleeding early this morning."

Jo looked horrified as she came out with three mugs of coffee.

"Lord, no wonder you rushed out. But everything's all right, isn't it?"

"Yes," Alex confirmed. "Dr Cutler said there was no problem because I got him there so fast. Everything's fine."

"Well, thank God for not-so-small blessings," Jo said. "Now, if He'll just see fit to let your hands heal properly…"

Bobby looked down at his hands wordlessly. They were the very first thing he had looked at when the bandages had come off and, though he'd said nothing at the time, the sight of them sent a bolt of fear straight through his heart. Now, he found himself staring once more at the mangled messes that were his hands, and he couldn't keep himself from wondering whether he was going to end up crippled after all.

It was a stark fear that, until now, he'd not fully faced. Even when blindness had been a potential reality, he had not really confronted in his own heart and mind the prospect of being permanently crippled. Sightless as he had been, it had been all too easy to keep his eyes closed, so to speak, and ignore the grim possibilities. In many ways, it had been his prime method of coping.

Now, though, finally being able to see the damage that had been done, he found he no longer had any choice. He had to face it, because the reality was right in front of him.

"Bobby?"

He looked up slowly, distracted from his grim thoughts by Jo's persistent voice. Having got his attention, she reached over and gently pushed back a wayward lock of hair.

"What is it, baby?" she asked softly. "Talk to us."

Bobby looked over at Alex. She was watching him in silent concern, but without pity. He was grateful for that. He wanted no one's pity.

"I…"

He faltered, suddenly unsure of what to say. Neither woman spoke, each waiting for him to gather his thoughts into some lucid order. Finally, minutes later, he stood up abruptly.

"I… I'd like to be alone for a bit. I… I'm sorry."

They watched as he made his way over and into his bedroom, pushing the door fully shut behind him.

"Poor baby," Jo murmured. Alex nodded, understanding exactly what Jo meant.

"Now that he can see, he has to deal with it all in a whole new way. Now he can see what those bastards did to him."

"Good thing he has an appointment tomorrow morning with Dr Thomas," Jo said. Alex looked across at the closed door of Bobby's bedroom with ill-concealed worry.

"I've been trying to stay positive, but I've been worried sick about what would happen when he got his sight back."

"He needs time, Alex. Just like with everything else, he needs time. We have to be patient. There's an awful lot for him to deal with."

"I know," Alex whispered, staring sadly at the tabletop. "I know."

* * *

Bobby sat on his bed for a while, listening to the dull murmur of voices from outside the door. He couldn't hear clearly enough to make out what was being said, but he figured he could guess fairly accurately.

It didn't bother him so much, knowing that Jo and Alex were talking about him. He couldn't say how he might have felt had it been anyone else, but with Jo and Alex it didn't seem to matter quite so much.

Letting the muffled voices fade into the background, Bobby stood up and made his way slowly around the room, taking in everything in a way that he hadn't been able to do for so long.

With an almost forgotten eagerness he looked around him; at the bed, at the small bookshelf, at the open cupboard… For a few minutes, he just revelled in being able to see, even if he vision wasn't yet one hundred percent. But then, as he looked, that small bubble of enthusiasm slowly deflated as he was confronted by yet another harsh reality – the destruction of virtually everything he owned.

Not all that long ago, he'd owned more books than he honestly had room for. Now, what he owned fitted all too easily onto a small shelving unit that fitted into one corner of a room in an apartment that was not his own.

Previously, he'd had a large selection of clothing that comfortably filled a large walk-in closet, and an enormous chest of drawers. Now, all he had were just a few shirts, one pair of jeans, one pair of sweatpants, a sweater that was on loan from Mike Logan, a couple of pairs of pyjamas and a pair of runners. And he only had that much because Alex had gone to the trouble of buying most of it for him before he left the hospital.

He was grateful to her, but also embarrassed that she'd needed to do that for him in the first place.

He turned slowly, and found himself facing the window and, finally, his own reflection.

Bobby's breath caught in his throat as he stared at his reflection in the glass. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected to see, but the sight of his face – his scarred eyes, the bruising that was only just now starting to fade, and his almost emaciated appearance – was a real shock to his system. He understood with abrupt grimness why Jo and Alex were constantly on his case about not eating enough. He looked almost skeletal, even to himself.

This was the physical cost of his brother's actions, Bobby thought dismally. He really had been reduced to a shadow of his former self, both physically and emotionally. Shaken, Bobby awkwardly drew the curtain across the window, wincing at the pain that shot through his fingers. Then, comforted by the darkness, he discarded the dark glasses on the dresser, climbed onto the bed and lay down, shutting his eyes and willing himself to sleep.

* * *

"He's asleep," Alex murmured when she checked in on Bobby a half hour later. She walked in quietly and, without waking him, pulled the quilt up from where it was folded at the end of the bed and gently covered him with it. She paused, watching him in silence for a minute before allowing Jo to draw her out.

"It's been a pretty intense morning for him," Jo pointed out as they retreated to the sofa to sit and talk. "I'm not surprised he's run out of steam now." She paused, eyeing Alex thoughtfully and taking in the other woman's troubled features. "You want to talk about what's bothering you, Alex?"

Alex sipped at a fresh mug of coffee, considering how to reply.

"I keep waiting for some sort of explosion," she admitted finally. "He hasn't blown up about anything… or at anyone, since he exploded at Lewis in the hospital. He's been almost placid, and it's got me worried."

"Everyone reacts in different ways," Jo mused. "Just because we were warned to expect violent mood swings didn't mean that was strictly what would happen. Bobby is a unique man. He doesn't deal with anything in the same way that most everyone else does. And he has had some pretty intense shifts in moods. It just hasn't been quite as blatant as we thought it would be."

"I know," Alex agreed. "But it still bothers me that he just doesn't seem to be reacting much in any way at all. I… I guess I'm just waiting for that one big explosion."

"It'll come," Jo agreed. "But it'll come in _his_ time, not ours. We can't force a reaction from him, just to make ourselves feel better."

Alex sighed and set her mug down on the coffee table.

"I wouldn't do that. I _couldn't_ do that. And it's not that I want to rush his recovery. I know it's going to take a long time for him to get past this. But you don't understand, Jo. You didn't know him before all of this."

"So tell me, hon."

"Bobby was never one for sharing the pain. He always internalised everything, and he'd let it build up until he just couldn't hold it in anymore. And usually, when the blow-up came, it'd end up with him doing something phenomenally stupid."

"Such as?" Jo wondered curiously.

"Well… There was a case maybe four years back. We came across this guy who'd set up this elaborate deception, pretending to be more than what he was to his family. He killed one man and tried to kill a woman to protect his fantasy life, but when it all threatened to come crashing down around him, he decided he couldn't cope with his kids finding out their dad wasn't the hero they thought he was… so he took them to a motel, drugged them and was going to kill them."

"Oh, Lord…" Jo whispered in horror. Alex nodded.

"Bobby and I got separated. He went ahead to the motel, and I got left behind trying to organise SWAT. When I got to the motel, I found out that Bobby had gone into the room to talk to the father, and he hadn't worn his vest. At one point, before he managed to finally talk the guy out of it, Bobby put himself between the shotgun and the children, and he had the damn thing aimed right at his face. God, he gave me such a scare that day. And I don't think I'd ever really heard Captain Deakins yell at anyone until that day. When we got back to One Police Plaza, Bobby got his butt hauled in to Deakins' office for a closed door chat, and I swear we could hear him yelling at Bobby as far away as the holding cells."

"Does it happen a lot?" Jo asked. "Those sorts of blow-ups?"

"Thankfully, no," Alex admitted. "But every so often, it all gets too much for him to cope with, and that's the sort of thing that happens. He'd been getting better over the last eighteen months or so. Instead of holding it in, I'd been able to get him to talk to me. We started a bit of a tradition. We'd go to Carucci's on a Friday night, order pizza and beer and talk about everything that was going on. He really got into that. He didn't just talk about work stuff, he'd talk about whatever was going on with his mom at the time, too. It was good. But now… I get the horrible feeling I'm going to have to start from scratch."

"You might find you'll recover the ground faster than you think," Jo said. "Give him a chance to process it all, Alex. Then, if he's still shutting us out, then we'll worry. Okay?"

Alex nodded reluctantly. She knew Jo was right, though she felt precious little comfort from her assurances.

"Okay."

* * *

Bobby slept on throughout the better part of the day, waking only briefly before dinner and just long enough for Jo to help him to use the bathroom, give him his medication, and put him to bed once more. Mike came by to see him early in the evening, with Elliot and Olivia in tow, and all were surprised to hear that Bobby had slept through most of the day.

"Wow," Mike murmured as he peeked in on his friend. "I guess all the stress and exhaustion finally caught up with him."

"I hope it's just that," Alex said softly. Olivia looked at her with concern.

"You think it might be something else? Maybe an infection, or something?"

"No, nothing physical," Alex assured them. "It's just, I've never known Bobby to sleep this long before. Even when he was at his most fit, he never slept for more than a few hours at a time. He's been out for around eleven hours now." She shook her head, trying to dismiss her concerns. "I'm probably worrying for nothing. Would you guys like some coffee?"

"Please," Elliot said gratefully. "We've been stuck in the bullpen all day, and the coffee in there sucks."

"I'll get it," Jo offered. "You all sit down."

"You're a sweetheart, Jo," Mike called after her as she disappeared into the kitchen. Jo said nothing, but they all heard her amused 'humph' in response.

"So the bandages came off his eyes this morning, huh?" Olivia asked, and Alex nodded.

"After some drama, yes."

"Mike told us," Elliot confirmed. "Good thing you were on the ball, Alex."

She snorted in response.

"On the ball nothing. He scared the crap out of me. Took five years off my life. All I could think of was getting him in to the hospital as fast as I could. And I think it scared me even more that Bobby never argued."

"He's healing, though," Olivia said. "It's slow going, but he is healing."

"Physically, yes," Alex agreed. "Emotionally? I'm not so sure." She looked up at them sharply. "And the next person who tells me I need to give him time is going to get their front teeth knocked out. I _know_ I have to give him time. I'm not an idiot."

Elliot smiled warmly at her in reply.

"Never said you were, Alex."

* * *

An hour and three rounds of coffee later, Elliot and Olivia finally left, drawn away by a callout from their captain to yet another crime scene. Mike stayed, offering to drive Jo home when she was ready to go.

Jo had just returned with steaming mugs of fresh coffee when she froze.

"What is it?" Mike asked. Jo didn't reply, but rather looked over at Alex with a concerned expression.

"Are you hearing what I'm hearing?"

Alex sucked in a sharp breath.

"Bobby…"

Almost dropping the mugs of coffee, Jo trotted quickly over to Bobby's bedroom, with Alex right behind her. Alex was just reaching the door when a blood curdling scream shattered the quiet. Throwing the door open, Alex ran into the room to find Bobby curled up in a tight ball on the bed, still asleep but sobbing helplessly, trapped in the midst of some nightmare.

"Alex, wait!" Mike shouted, but his warning came seconds too late. In her concern, Alex laid her hands on Bobby's shoulder, intending to try and wake him up. The next instant, Alex was on her butt on the floor, holding her nose which was literally gushing blood, and Bobby was on the other side of the room, shaking uncontrollably and cowering against the wall, still half asleep and terrified out of his mind.

Jo started around the bed to go to Bobby's aid, only to be stopped by Mike.

"No. Take Alex out of here and help her. I'll help Bobby."

"He didn't mean to," Alex said in a muffled voice as Jo helped her up. Mike shot her a reassuring smile.

"I know, Alex. Go, get yourself cleaned up. I'll take care of him."

He waited patiently until Jo had led Alex out before going around and crouching down near Bobby. He stayed there for a long moment, considering the best way to go about waking the other man without traumatising him any worse than he already was. Finally, he moved in carefully and, in one fluid motion, slipped one arm across Bobby's chest, pinning his arms down without having to resort to fully restraining him, and at the same time speaking as loudly as he dared into Bobby's ear.

"Bobby, _wake up_!"

It worked. Bobby awoke fully with a start, his chest heaving painfully as he struggled to get enough air.

"M… Mike?"

"Yeah, pal, it's me. You awake now?"

"Yeah," Bobby whispered shakily. He hesitated, and then looked around in confusion. "Why am I on the floor?"

"You were having a shocker of a nightmare, my friend. Alex tried to wake you up, and you panicked. Shot backwards across the bed and landed on the floor. You're lucky you didn't land on those hands."

"Alex…" Bobby whispered. "I… I didn't hurt her… did I?"

"Nothing she won't bounce back from," Mike replied flippantly. "Don't worry about it."

"I did hurt her."

"I said, don't worry about it. Talk to me, pal. What was the nightmare about?"

At that, Bobby suddenly went very quiet. After giving him a minute or two, Mike tried again.

"Was it about Richie? Or Matic or Cozza? Or all of them?"

The violent shudder that passed through Bobby's body answered the question before Bobby had a chance to verbally respond.

"All… All of them," he whispered, his voice breaking as memories of the attack came hurtling back with a vengeance, triggered by the horrific nightmare. A moment later, he broke down completely, sobbing helplessly and trying uselessly to bury his face in his arms. Shifting carefully, Mike gently took Bobby by the shoulders and drew him in close until Bobby was crying into his shoulder.

He said nothing, but continued to hold his friend in comforting silence, waiting for the torrent to ease.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Mike blinked in surprise as Bobby finally drew back from him.

"Why?"

"For… For…"

"For what? For this? Don't apologise, pal. I'm just glad I can help in some way. How are you feeling?"

Bobby gave a lopsided shrug. The truth was, he _was_ feeling just a little better.

"Okay, I guess."

He glanced briefly at Mike, who smiled reassuringly at him in return.

"Don't worry about, Bobby. Just think of it as one friend to another. Now, how about we get up off the floor?"

Bobby nodded his agreement and, with some effort, Mike hauled him off the floor and back onto his feet. Still shaken, Bobby sat back down on the bed, his shoulders slumped.

"I didn't really hurt Alex, did I?"

"No, you didn't hurt me."

Both Mike and Bobby looked around as Alex and Jo ventured into the bedroom. Alex's nose was looking a little on the red and sore side, Mike mused, but otherwise unscathed. Fortunately, it appeared that Bobby had avoided breaking it.

Alex came around and sat down on Bobby's other side, slipping her arm gently around his shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

"I… I guess," he mumbled. "I'm…"

"Don't apologise, Bobby," she warned him lightly. "We've had that discussion already."

He sighed softly but, to Alex's relief, made no attempt to apologise to her.

"So what was that nightmare about?" Jo asked, watching him with concern. "It must have been a whopper."

"It was about all of them… Richie, Matic and Cozza… but mainly about Richie."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alex asked. Bobby swallowed hard. It was time to come clean about his intentions.

"Yes… but not to you."

Alex glanced past Bobby to Jo and Mike, and then back to Bobby again.

"What do you mean, not to us?"

He looked around at her, and it was all she could do not to cringe away from his haunted gaze.

"I have to see Richie."

* * *

_tbc..._


	32. Breaking Point

A/N: I worked my fingers off on this over the weekend, and the result is a chapter that is nearly twice as long as I'd intended it to be. The end is also in sight, finally. There are still a few more chapters to come, but we are rapidly heading towards the finish of this twisted tale of torment. Which may or may not be good, depending on what my muse has planned for future stories...

* * *

"He wants to _what?_"

Alex winced at the force of Captain Deakins' exclamation when she related Bobby's intentions to him the next morning.

"Jo, Mike and I have already tried to talk him out of it," she told him. "I think I was up arguing with him over it half the night. At least, that's what it felt like. He just won't budge."

"It's not a good idea," Deakins muttered, more to himself than to Alex. "He'll be making a serious mistake if he goes to see Richie."

"Well, be my guest to try and talk him out of it," Alex said wearily. "But I seriously doubt you'll have any more success than we did. He's determined he's going to do it. He thinks it's the only way he'll have peace of mind, or something like that."

Deakins raised an eyebrow at her sceptically.

"How in God's name does he think he'll get peace of mind by opening himself up to more abuse? That's the most insane thing I've heard for a long time, Alex, even coming from Bobby."

"I know," Alex said with a sigh. "I said exactly that to him, but he's adamant. He said he's not doing it for Richie. He's doing it for himself. He said it's something that he needs to do."

"Is he coming in here this morning, Alex?"

"Yes, but not until this afternoon. He slept for most of yesterday…"

"Really?"

"Yes, I know. I think Mike was right. The stress and exhaustion must have finally caught up to him. Last night, though, he had nightmares all night long. I don't think he got more than an hour's sleep at the most."

"And neither did you, I gather," Deakins observed. Alex took the liberty of ignoring the comment.

"Jo wanted him to rest this morning before going anywhere. He's got an appointment with his psychiatrist straight after lunch, and then they'll come here."

Deakins grunted. "Maybe the psychiatrist will be able to talk him out of it."

"Not likely," Alex retorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if Dr Thomas came out and said it was a good idea. You know shrinks. They're all about resolutions. Anyway, the point is, when Bobby couldn't see he had the sympathy vote going in his favour. Now, it's almost like it was before. You know how persuasive Bobby could be. He's getting that back with a vengeance and I'm telling you right now, it's damned hard to look him in the eye and tell him he can't do something."

Deakins nodded resolutely.

"We'll see."

* * *

"So, did he hit the roof?" Mike asked when Alex rejoined him. She smiled grimly.

"He thinks he'll be able to talk Bobby out of it."

Mike laughed aloud at that. "He's kidding, right? I mean, come on! This is Bobby Goren we're talking about! When was Deakins ever able to talk Bobby out of anything?"

"Exactly," Alex agreed. "But you know, I'd almost like to be there when he tries."

"I wouldn't," Mike said bluntly. "Bobby looks up to Deakins, almost like a father-figure. How is it gonna go with him if Deakins flat out tells him he's out of his mind?"

Alex smiled, amused by the accuracy of Mike's description of Bobby and the captain's relationship.

"Well, firstly, Deakins wouldn't say that to him. I think Bobby would feel better if Deakins backed him up, but he's not going to stress out too much about it if he doesn't. He's already made up his mind, and I don't think anything any of us can say will change it for him. See, that's the problem. None of us really has the authority to tell Bobby no, he can't do it, and he knows it. He's not going to back down, and none of us can force him to."

Mike nodded in agreement.

"I hate to say it, but you're probably right."

"I know I am," Alex stated. "All we can do is hope he doesn't get too badly hurt again."

"You mean, be there to pick up the pieces when he does," Mike corrected her. A soft sigh escaped Alex's lips. She knew Mike was right, little though she liked it.

"Yeah," she muttered dismally. "Something like that."

* * *

When Bobby arrived that afternoon after seeing his psychiatrist, he was not in the least bit surprised to find himself being called into the captain's office for a 'closed door' chat.

"Alex told you," he said quietly. Deakins watched Bobby carefully before responding. He'd had plenty of time to think his strategy through, and he knew that being angry and confrontational would get him nowhere fast. If he wanted a hope in hell of getting Bobby to see reason, it would require a much more subtle approach. He just hoped he had it in him to go up against the Great Bobby Goren in a proverbial battle of wits.

"She told me. She was a little upset about it."

Bobby grimaced. "I know. Everyone seems to be upset. Alex is upset. Jo is angry with me…"

"Jo?" Deakins echoed in surprise. Bobby nodded, looking thoroughly miserable.

"She said she can't understand why I'd set myself up for another fall, because that's all I'd be doing. She got pretty angry with me over it, and she's hardly said two words to me all day. And Mike… He's confused about why I want to see Richie, too. No one understands. No one _wants_ to understand."

Deakins saw a slim opening, and grabbed it.

"Do you want to try to forgive him? Or is it that you just feel you need to be able to confront at least one of your attackers?"

"I… I really don't know," Bobby said softly. "I feel like I'll understand better myself when I see him. All I know for sure is that I have to do this. Maybe it is partly that I need to be able to confront him. I… I have nightmares every night, Captain. I relieve what happened every single night, but last night was the worst."

"Why is that?" Deakins asked softly. He thought he already knew, but he was curious to know what take Bobby had on it.

"Yesterday morning, when we got home," Bobby said quietly, his gaze fixed on his slow-healing hands, "I went into my room. I saw my reflection… in the window."

It was with some effort that Deakins didn't cringe. Of course, it would have been the first time Bobby had the opportunity to actually physically see the damage that had been done to him by Richie and his buddies. It would have been a massive shock to his system.

"And?" he asked quietly. Bobby smiled bitterly.

"I guess I can understand now why Alex and Jo keep getting on my case about not eating enough."

"You have lost a lot of weight," Deakins agreed. "But that's something that can be worked on gradually. What else bothered you most?"

Bobby lifted his hands briefly off his lap.

"At my last appointment… Dr Craig said my right hand was healing well, but my left hand… She said it was too soon to know, but I got the impression she did know, but wasn't telling me."

"You're afraid you'll lose the use of it," Deakins murmured, and Bobby nodded once.

"Yes."

"And you have nightmares about it?"

"Yes," Bobby admitted. "I have nightmares about all of it. About the attack… About Richie, Matic and Cozza… About being… being raped. I have nightmares about being crippled. I wake up at least once every damn night with a scream on my lips, Captain. It makes me sick to my stomach, and I want it to stop. I… I don't know if confronting Richie will help that to happen, but I have to try. The… The other thing is… I want him to see that he didn't win. I want to see it in his eyes… that he knows he couldn't destroy me. It's important to me."

Deakins sighed softly.

"I understand all of that, Bobby. I really do. I still think there must be a better way, but I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't do it. When do you plan to go and see him?"

"Tomorrow," Bobby answered. "I want to get it over with as quickly as possible. Because after this… I don't think I'll ever want to lay eyes on him again."

"Who's going with you?"

Bobby looked up at Deakins blankly. The captain returned his stare with a small, grim smile.

"If you're determined to do this, Bobby, then that's your choice. But there is no way in hell that you're going there without back-up."

"It isn't a police situation," Bobby protested.

"You know what I mean, Bobby. I know that Jo will be there, but I want someone else to go with you as well. You either pick someone to go with you, or I'll choose for you. It's up to you."

"And if I just refuse?"

"Then I'll go with you myself, if I have to. Your choice, Detective."

Bobby looked sharply at the captain, his attention elicited by Deakins' choice of address towards him.

"Mike," he said finally. "If he'll go… I'll take Mike."

"Not Alex?" Deakins wondered, though he thought he understood Bobby's choice without the necessity of an explanation.

"She's there for me anyway," Bobby mumbled, sounding mildly embarrassed. "But I don't think it'd be a good idea for her to go. If anything does happen… I just don't want her to get into any trouble."

"For what?"

"For shooting Richie."

This time, the effort was for trying not to laugh. He was right, though. Alex had not actually laid physical eyes on Bobby's brother, and if she were to go with him to Bellevue and something _did_ happen, it was entirely likely that she would do something drastic like shooting Richie.

"All right, Bobby. I'll see if Logan is willing to go along with you. Although, I'm not so sure he can be trusted not to do anything to Richie anymore than Eames can be."

Bobby smiled faintly. He knew there was some truth in Deakins' words and though it did worry him some, he was also touched by the knowledge that someone like Mike Logan would so readily defend him.

"Just… promise me that if something does happen, and Mike…"

"Punches out your brother?" Deakins suggested.

"Yeah. Promise you won't forget about what we talked about."

"Don't worry," Deakins assured him. "The gears are already turning on that one. By the time you're ready to come back to work, everything should be in place."

Bobby grinned.

"You haven't told him yet, have you?"

"No. I thought I'd wait, and spring it on him just before he's supposed to return to his own precinct. Even if he doesn't want to stay with the squad on a long-term basis, it'll at least be a springboard for him to get to wherever he _wants_ to be. And, in the meantime, I have someone lined up to partner him when you and Eames are back together."

"You are okay with this, aren't you?" Bobby asked suddenly uncertain.

"Bobby, if I wasn't okay with it, I would never have gone along with the idea. You know me better than that. I am not just indulging you, all right? It was a damned good idea, and worth following up."

Satisfied, Bobby got up slowly and made his way over to the door.

"You know, you're developing a very good impersonation of Ray Charles?" Deakins asked, getting up and walking over to open the door for Bobby before he could hurt his hand by trying it himself. Bobby snorted, and then laughed.

"I bet I'll be hearing that plenty before long."

Deakins grinned, pleased to have gotten a laugh out of him after their serious conversation.

"I know. It's pretty pathetic, but it put a smile on your face."

Bobby paused, looking at Deakins with gratitude.

"Thankyou for listening… and understanding."

Deakins clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't be much of a captain if I couldn't do at least that much. Go on, now. And send Logan in here when he and Eames get back from court."

Bobby nodded and headed back out into the bullpen. Deakins paused in the doorway of his office, watching as the detective made his way slowly through the maze of desks, back to his own desk where Jo was waiting. As he watched, Bobby sat down and picked gingerly at a sheet of paper from atop a pile of other papers that had been left there for him to read through.

Bobby's return to work was not yet official – he was there, but not there – but the benefit of allowing him to be there to do just a few hours of desk work each day was paying off in spades. He could see Bobby's confidence slowly returning with every small accomplishment.

Smiling to himself, Deakins returned to his desk. He knew he couldn't possibly anticipate with accuracy the outcome of Bobby's visit to Bellevue, but he felt confident that whatever happened, Bobby would survive it.

* * *

Mike and Alex returned from the court nearly half an hour later, satisfied with the plea that the suspect from their most recent case had taken. Bobby watched them cross the floor, and smiled faintly, guessing they'd gotten the result they wanted.

"He took Carver's offer?" he asked as Alex dropped into her chair, and Mike sat down on the edge of the desk.

"Twenty-five years," Alex confirmed. "It was a good result."

"I see you found the paperwork we left for you," Mike said, and Bobby laughed softly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Mike."

"Hey, my pleasure," Mike joked. "Anything so I don't have to do it."

"Newsflash, smart guy," Bobby said with a smirk. "I can't write yet."

"Well, what have you got Jo for, then?"

A moment later, Mike yelped as a hand smacked him over the back of the head.

"I heard that, you big ape," Jo retorted. "His hands might still be healing, but mine work perfectly."

"That's just the point I was making," Mike protested, ducking out of the way as Jo threatened to whack him again.

"Yes, but not to the same ends, Michael."

Mike grimaced, genuine discomfort on his face.

"Please, don't call me that."

Jo looked puzzled, but apologetic.

"Sorry, hon. I didn't mean to upset you."

He offered her a slightly tremulous smile.

"It's okay. Just… unpleasant memories."

"Oh, Mike, the captain wanted to see you in his office," Bobby said as Mike's words reminded him of Deakins' request. The smile fell away like a rock.

"Great. What'd I do now?"

"Nothing," Bobby assured him. "You're not in any trouble. Not unless you did something in the last few hours that he hasn't found out about yet."

Mike shot Alex a warning look as he started towards Deakins' office.

"Not a word, Eames."

"He didn't do anything, did he?" Bobby asked, looking back at Alex with a puzzled and slightly concerned expression. Alex shook her head, chuckling.

"No, he didn't. Let's just say that he's getting to be on intimate terms with my sense of snark."

Bobby grinned at that.

"Say no more."

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Mike asked as he stepped tentatively into the inner sanctum of Deakins' office. The captain nodded.

"Yes. Close the door and have a seat, Mike."

Mike grimaced as he pushed the door shut and sat. First names were usually not a good sign, and neither was a request to close the door. Then again, he reassured himself, just how much trouble could he be in? He was only on loan to Major Case, after all.

"You aren't in any trouble, Mike," Deakins told him. "I actually have a favour to ask. You know that Bobby intends to go to Bellevue tomorrow to see his brother?"

"I tried to talk him out of it, Captain," Mike said quickly, and Deakins nodded dismissively.

"I know. I did, too. Or at least, I'd planned on trying. He cut me off at the pass, so to speak. At any rate, he's definitely going, whether we like it or not, and I guess I can understand his reasoning. My point for calling you in now is to ask if you'd be willing to go along with him."

Mike stared at Deakins in surprise.

"Me? Why not Alex?"

"Because Bobby specified you."

Mike sat in silence, stunned and confused.

"I gave Bobby an ultimatum," Deakins explained. "I told him that he either selects someone to go with him to Bellevue… someone who _isn't_ Jo… or I'd pick someone instead. Or, I'd go myself. He asked for you, if you're willing."

"Sure," Mike said. "Of course I will… but I'm kind of surprised he didn't ask for Alex."

"His reasoning there was that of the two of you, you'd probably be less likely to shoot Richie."

Mike laughed.

"Well, he might have a point, there. But I can't promise I won't have a go at the son of a bitch, if the opportunity were to present itself."

"That's not such a joke," Deakins murmured, though he couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of Mike punching out Richie Goren. "Look, what I want for you to do is this. Bobby is entitled to a private one on one visit with Richie, if that's what he wants, but there has to be someone observing at all times. I need you to be in that observation room and keep a close watch on everything that happens. If things get out of Bobby's control, put an end to it. If Richie gets abusive in any way, put an end to it. No matter what happens, it's going to be incredibly hard for Bobby. Be patient with him afterwards. He may not be willing to talk to anyone straight away."

"You want me to go back to the apartment with him?" Mike wondered. "Just keep an eye on him?"

Deakins nodded in confirmation.

"Effectively, yes. I think he really doesn't know quite what he may be letting himself in for tomorrow, Mike, but he's not going to be dissuaded."

"I'll look out for him, Captain," Mike promised sincerely. "I still don't think it's a good idea, but I guess I can understand why he wants to do it."

"Same," Deakins agreed. "Just one other thing, Mike. Richie's lawyer will be there. It's an unfortunate legal necessity. Just keep an eye on the slimy son of a bitch, and don't let him get a word in edge-wise with Bobby, if you can manage it. You know what happened the last time he talked directly to Bobby."

"I know," Mike remembered with a dark look. "Trust me, he won't have a chance to have a go at Bobby. Is that all, Captain? It's just that I've got a lot of paperwork waiting for me."

"Yes, that's all. Thankyou, Mike," Deakins said quietly with genuine gratitude. "You really have been a good friend to Bobby. You didn't have to…"

Mike shrugged as he got up to leave.

"It might have been kind of out of a sense of obligation at first… You know he saved both our asses in that prison."

Deakins nodded wordlessly. Yes, he knew. Mike went on quietly, sincerely.

"The thing is, I really do like the guy, and I want to see him recover from this. So, whatever I can do to help, I'll do it. And if that includes putting his asshole brother and his lawyer in their places, then all the better."

"Just don't get over-enthusiastic about it, Mike," Deakins warned him. The detective grinned as he left the office.

"Trust me, it's not a problem."

Deakins grimaced. Trust Mike Logan? He only hoped that he could.

* * *

The next morning

"You look like shit."

Bobby spared Mike a withering look as he climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV that Mike had driven to Alex's apartment.

"Thanks."

"I'm not kidding," Mike said, frowning. "Did you get any sleep last night at all?"

"Not nearly enough," Jo announced firmly from the back seat.

"I'm fine," Bobby mumbled, looking away out the window. Mike stared at him for a long moment before making up his mind.

"That does it. We're going for coffee first."

"Mike…" Bobby started to protest, but Mike merely grinned at him.

"Suck it up, pal. I'm driving, and I say we're not letting you anywhere near Bellevue until you've had a suitably strong cup of coffee. C'mon. My treat. Let Richie and his precious lawyer cool their heels and wait for you."

Bobby sighed softly. He really was not in the mood to argue.

"Okay. Fine."

"Great," Mike enthused. "Coffee heaven, here we come!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Bobby had to concede he did feel better after having been treated to a particularly strong cup of coffee. He still wasn't a hundred percent, but he felt better prepared to face Richie, and he said as much to Jo and Mike.

"Caffeine, the miracle worker," Mike declared, downing the remnants of his own cup. "Seriously, Bobby, we couldn't let you go to Bellevue without doing everything we could to make sure you're ready for it."

"I'd rather not let him go at all," Jo growled.

"Jo…" Bobby started to argue, but she shook her head, holding up a hand to silence him.

"No, you've made up your mind. I've already gone on record saying I think it's a big mistake. But in the end, it's your choice."

"Jo, please," Bobby pleaded softly. "I need your support. I… I don't like having you angry with me."

She looked back at him for a long moment, her expression inscrutable, before she sighed and leaned across to muss his hair affectionately.

"Bobby, sweetheart, of course you've got my support. And I'm not angry with you. I just don't want to see you get hurt any worse than you already have been. I'm worried that you're opening yourself up to more hurt by doing this."

"I know I am," Bobby confessed. "No matter what his lawyer said… No matter what that letter said, I don't believe Richie is in any way sorry for what he did."

"Then why are you doing this?" Jo burst out. "If you know he's just going to abusive towards you, why go?"

"Because I want him to see that he didn't win," Bobby said softly. "If I hide from him, he'll know he's beaten me. I want to be able to stand in front of him… scars and all… and see in his eyes that he knows I've won. I want to see the look on his face when he understands that at the end of it, I'm the one who can walk away while he'll be locked up for the rest of his life. I… I want to see that in his face. I want him to know that he's lost everything, while I'm going to move on with my life… whatever it brings."

"This is why you never made a decision until the bandages came off," Mike observed.

"I'd already made my mind up long before that first visit from Richie's lawyer," Bobby admitted. "But I didn't say anything, because there was no way of knowing whether I would see again."

"And what if you hadn't gotten your sight back?" Jo asked piercingly. Bobby shook his head.

"I don't know. I can't say whether I would have been able to face him or not. But I can see, and I know that at least one of my hands will heal. Whatever happens from here on, I still have a chance at a future. Richie has no future. His life is over."

Mike nodded.

"Okay, then. On that note, I think it's time we got going. You ready, pal?"

"As I'll ever be," Bobby answered, holding back a sigh.

* * *

Richie had been sitting waiting for nearly forty-five minutes when the door of the interview room opened and Bobby walked in. For several seconds, the two brothers stared at each other, before Richie finally looked away.

"You took your sweet time," he said harshly. "I've been sitting here waiting for nearly an hour."

Bobby didn't answer immediately. Walking over, he sat down opposite Richie on the other side of the table, pausing only long enough to note the fact that Richie was hand-cuffed to his chair. He let his breath out slowly and evenly as he sat, eager not to let Richie see how relieved he was to find his brother properly restrained.

"I think I've earned the right to take my time," Bobby replied quietly. He rested his hands on the tabletop, and took a small amount of satisfaction in seeing Richie wince at the sight of them.

"You got my letter, then?" Richie asked. Bobby stared intently at his brother, head tilted slightly to compensate for the eye patch that he had to wear.

"Your lawyer delivered it. I want to get something straight right now, Richie. I'm not here for your sake. I'm here for mine."

"Your sake. That's nice. You're not the one who's gonna be locked away for the rest of his life. I cooperated with the cops, and that's the deal I was offered. Life in a 'suitable psychiatric facility'. Some fucking deal that is."

Bobby didn't flinch.

"You're sick, Richie. You do know that, don't you?"

Richie laughed hoarsely.

"Know it? Of course I know it. And you've got to love the irony. I was Dad's favourite because I _wasn't_ anything like Mom. And now look at what's happened. I'm looking at spending the rest of my life in the nuthouse, because I turned out _exactly_ like her."

"You're nothing like her," Bobby said softly. Richie raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really. So, what, you've just conveniently forgotten about all the times she beat the shit out of you, because it was the only way to save you from _them_? Fuck, Bobby. You're even more deluded than I am."

"Mom thought she was doing the right thing by me," Bobby said firmly. "She thought she was saving me. It was her illness that kept her from understanding that all she was doing was hurting me."

"And what about me, Bobby? What explanation are you going to pull out of your ass for me?"

"You wanted to kill me, Richie. You didn't have any delusions about helping me. A couple of good friends helped me to realise that. You wanted me dead, and you made a damned good try of it."

"No, see, Bobby, if I'd wanted you dead, you would have been dead. _I_ saved your miserable life, you ungrateful bastard. Simon and Chops wanted you dead. They were going to kill you. I convinced them to let you live. You should be fucking thanking me! I protected you!"

Bobby leaned forward a little.

"Richie, you raped me with a metal poker. Don't sit there and try to tell me you were just trying to protect me. That's the schizophrenia talking."

Silence fell as they sat staring at each other.

"You're not going to forgive me, are you?" Richie asked bitterly. Bobby considered that for a moment before reaching up and carefully removing the dark glasses, revealing the extent of the damage to his eyes.

"Look at me, Richie. Take a good look."

Richie looked at him just briefly before grimacing and looking away.

"And you're asking me to forgive you?" Bobby asked as he slipped the dark glasses back on. "You can't even look at me straight now."

"I didn't ask them to do all that to you!" Richie exploded.

"No. You just asked them to beat me and rape me."

Richie rubbed his one free hand over his eyes.

"Fuck," he muttered.

"Do you really want me to forgive you?" Bobby asked softly. "Is that really why you wanted to see me? Or did you just want to get a look at your handiwork?"

"Did you just come to rub my face in it? You always were a vindictive bastard, Bobby."

"I'm not the one who set my brother up to be beaten, raped and killed. You look me in the eye, and tell me how I'm supposed to forgive that."

Richie looked up at Bobby, anger in his eyes.

"You fucking hypocrite."

"Hypocrite?" Bobby echoed, his voice starting to sound strained. "Me?"

"All I wanted was to say I'm sorry!" Richie burst out, tears abruptly filling his eyes. "I know I hurt you, Bobby. Goddamn it, I know that… I don't know what I was thinking… or even _if_ I was thinking. And I don't know why I even let myself get so angry at you. Maybe it was just that I made such a fucking balls-up of my life, and you're the one who's managed to get his life together… and I was jealous of that. I know it's no excuse. I know that. I feel sick to my stomach with guilt, thinking about what I did to you, and I'm going to pay for that every day for the rest of my life! I… I know I can't expect you to forgive me, but can't you at least say something?"

"What?" Bobby asked. "What do you want me to say?"

"Say you understand," Richie pleaded. "Say something positive, please? I know that once you walk out of here, I'm probably never going to see you again. I know that. So can't you bring yourself to just say one positive thing to me? Come on, Bobby, you owe me…"

* * *

On the other side of the glass, Mike tensed as he watched Bobby visibly freeze at Richie's words.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. David Parker glanced at Mike and Jo placidly.

"He's only being honest."

Mike threw a look at Parker that literally caused him to cringe.

"He's gets much more honest, and I'll pull the plug on this meeting."

"You can't do that, Detective."

"No?" Mike snapped. "Try me."

"This is between Richie and his brother. We can't interfere," Parker argued.

"I'm here for Bobby's wellbeing, not Richie's," Mike said. "If I think it's in Bobby's best interests to stop this, then I will. And you won't be able to do anything about it."

* * *

In the interview room, Bobby was staring at Richie incredulously.

"I owe you? How the hell do you figure that?"

When Richie didn't answer, Bobby shook his head and got up.

"I'm leaving. We have nothing to say to each other."

He was almost to the door when Richie spoke abruptly.

"I'm sorry, little bear."

Bobby froze. Then, slowly, he turned back to face Richie.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I'm sorry, little bear. I made a promise to you a long time ago, and I broke it in the worst possible way. You trusted me once with your life, and I betrayed that trust. I let you down, Bobby, and I am so sorry for that."

Slowly, Bobby walked back and sat down again.

"Little bear… You haven't called me that since I was twelve years old."

Richie smiled faintly.

"A lot of time has passed. I still think of you like that. Especially lately." His smile faded. "I really am sorry, Bobby. I don't understand myself why I did this to you. I promised Mom and I promised you that I'd look out for you… that I'd take care of you. I don't think I've ever failed so spectacularly at anything in my life as I have now."

"I can't say it, Richie," Bobby whispered. "I can't say that I forgive you. I can't even say I understand, because I don't."

Richie swallowed hard, and his shoulders slumped visibly.

"It… It's okay, Bobby. You don't have to say it. I understand. I don't blame you for it. Just answer me one thing before you go?"

"What?"

"When I tell you that I love you, can you still bring yourself to believe that?"

Bobby's stomach rolled uneasily.

"I… I don't know," he admitted finally, and in that moment, Bobby saw no anger in Richie's eyes. All he saw there was defeat. He'd won, they both knew it, and he felt no satisfaction in the victory whatsoever.

"Do you remember when you were eight?" Richie asked softly. "That time when Dad was gone for nearly two weeks, and Mom had another breakdown? The time when you were sick with pneumonia? You remember who was there for you then, Bobby?"

Bobby felt his chest tighten painfully as he deluged by the memories.

"You were."

"I took care of you, then," Richie agreed. "I sat with you, made sure you ate, and didn't get dehydrated. I looked after you, Bobby. You were my little brother. I loved you. I still do."

Tears spilled down Bobby's cheeks.

"You raped me, Richie," he whispered. "You beat me, and then you raped me. You can't ask me to forgive that."

"I'm being punished for it, Bobby. I'll be punished for it by my conscience every goddamn day for the rest of my life. Isn't that enough?"

"No!" Bobby exploded, his voice cracking. "No, it's not enough! I have to live with the memories for the rest of _my_ life. Don't you dare compare your sentence to mine, because it doesn't! It doesn't compare…"

Bobby gave a shudder and pushed himself up from the table.

"Enough. I'm leaving. This is over."

"Bobby," Richie called out to him as Bobby waited at the door for someone to let him out. "I made a horrible mistake. I know that, and now I have to live with the consequences of my actions. You better think hard about whether you're making a mistake by walking out that door now, and whether _you_ can live with the consequences of your choices."

Bobby stood stiffly in the open doorway for a long minute, and it seemed that he was going to be drawn back, when Mike suddenly appeared in his line of sight, and laid a hand supportively on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Bobby. Let's get outta here."

Bobby nodded and, without so much as a parting glance at his brother, he followed Mike and Jo out of the hospital.

* * *

Not a word was spoken as they left the hospital. Once they were back in the SUV, Mike forced a cheerful smile onto his face and looked from Bobby to Jo.

"Where to, then? One Police Plaza? Or do you want to play truant and clear off somewhere for the day? Personally, I'm up for playing truant. The instant I set foot in that place, I'll get buried under a mound of paperwork."

Jo smirked at him.

"That's your fault for trying to dump it all on poor Bobby. You should have known Jim would catch on to what you were doing sooner or later."

Mike smiled and shrugged.

"Hey, can you blame me? So what _are_ we going to do now?"

"Well," Jo mused, "we could always…"

"I'm tired," Bobby said softly, cutting Jo off before she could make a suggestion. "I want to go home."

Mike bit back a sigh. He'd hoped that Bobby might have been willing to go some place where they could talk about what had just happened. He knew what would happen if they simply took Bobby home. He would withdraw into his protective shell and refuse to come out again until he was good and ready.

"Hey," he suggested in a last ditch effort, "I know a great little café. They serve the best veal ptarmigan…"

"Please," Bobby asked again. He looked over at Mike and for a brief moment Mike caught a glimpse of his friend's pain and misery. "Mike… just take me home."

Mike conceded with a nod.

"Okay, Bobby. We'll take you home."

* * *

Mike had honestly expected Bobby to retreat into the sanctuary of his bedroom the instant that they walked through the door. To both his surprise and Jo's, Bobby instead made his way over and dropped into his armchair with a thud. He and Jo exchanged a puzzled but hopeful look. Maybe, just maybe, Bobby wasn't going to retreat and hide from everyone this time.

"Tell me what you want, Bobby," Jo asked softly. Bobby looked up at her with a tearful gaze that all but broke her heart.

"For none of this to have happened," he whispered. Biting lightly on her lower lip, Jo sat down carefully on the arm of the chair and gently drew him to her in a warm, comforting embrace. A moment later, she felt a shudder pass through him, and the tears came in a flood.

"That's it, baby," she murmured, hugging him fiercely and planting soft kisses on the top of his head. "Let it out, honey. Just let it all go."

No more words were spoken for a while. No words were necessary.

* * *

Half an hour later, Bobby did finally retreat to his bedroom, and was soon sleeping soundly.

"Well," Jo said wearily as she and Mike left him sleeping and returned to the living area, "I was hoping we could have gotten him to talk about it, but I think that was even better than talking."

Mike nodded his agreement.

"God willing, he might actually be able to go for a while without any nightmares."

"I still believe he made the wrong choice," Jo insisted as they sat with fresh mugs of coffee. "Richie wasn't after forgiveness. He only wanted to manipulate Bobby."

"He's some piece of work," Mike agreed ruefully. "I can understand Bobby's point of view in wanting to face him, though. I'm not saying I agree with it, but I do understand. He needed to be able to close the book on his brother, and he's the only one who could. We could say all we liked about it, but in the end Bobby had to do it his own way, and in his own time. He's done that now, and maybe he'll finally be able to really start recovering. You'll see, Jo. He's confronted this demon now. It won't take him long to dismiss it."

Jo grimaced as she sipped her coffee and glanced over at Bobby's bedroom door.

"I hope you're right, Mike."

Mike turned his attention to the mug in his hands, hoping that Jo didn't catch the fleeting uncertainty that he was sure had been visible on his face. He hoped he was right, too. He really did.

* * *

For nearly three hours, Alex only made a pretence of doing the paperwork. She was anxious for word on how Bobby had coped with the visit to Bellevue, and she was growing increasingly agitated with each hour that passed. When Deakins finally called her into his office just before noon, it was all she could do not to run. Making a conscious effort to keep her breathing even, she walked into Deakins' office and sat down.

The captain eyed her with a small smile.

"You don't have to play-act, Alex. I know damned well that you're just as frantic as I've been."

She couldn't bring herself to smile.

"Have you heard anything yet?"

"I just spoke to Logan. He said it didn't go too well, but Bobby seems to be okay. A little upset, but otherwise okay."

Alex stared at him incredulously.

"A _little_? I'm assuming they didn't just kiss and make up here."

"You'd assume right," Deakins confirmed. "According to Mike, Richie tried to manipulate Bobby, to make him feel guilty. Mike said Bobby didn't buy it for a second. And he was the one to put an end to it in the finish. Not Mike, or anyone else. Mike said Bobby never lost control. It wasn't a pleasant encounter, but he came through it with minimal damage."

Alex sighed softly, and visibly relaxed.

"Thank God. Captain, would you mind if I…?"

"Go ahead," he told her. "I'll see you all tomorrow. And Alex…?"

Alex looked back as she reached the door.

"Yes?"

"Tell Mike thankyou for me."

Alex smiled tiredly.

"I'll thank him for both of us."

* * *

Bobby awoke to the comforting sensation of fingers lightly stroking his cheek and forehead. Slowly, he allowed himself to be drawn back into awareness, and found himself looking up at his partner's caring smile.

"Alex…?"

"Hey, you," she murmured. "How are you feeling?"

He hesitated in answering that, wanting to give as honest an answer as he could.

"Been better," he said finally. "Been worse. It… hurts."

"Did you think it wouldn't?" she asked seriously. He sighed and shook his head.

"No. I knew it would be hard. I just… I don't know. I don't know what I was hoping for."

"Resolution," Alex offered. "You were hoping that Richie really was sorry. But he wasn't, was he?"

"No. Not really. He's feeling guilty, but I don't think he feels that way because of what he did. His illness… He's partly convinced himself that he kept Matic and Cozza from killing me. He thought I should have been grateful."

Alex snorted in disgust.

"Right. He really is living in another reality now, isn't he?"

"I can't do it anymore, Alex," Bobby whispered. "It's over."

Alex felt a chill settle in her gut at his words. She hoped he didn't mean what she thought he meant, but she just didn't know for sure looking at his bruised face.

"You can't do what anymore, Bobby?"

"The whole caring brother charade," he answered. "I did love Richie once… a long time ago. But I'm tired. I barely have enough strength to help myself without worrying about trying to help him too. I… I won't have anymore to do with him. I can't. Not if I'm going to survive this."

Alex couldn't hide the relief she felt, and she lay down carefully next to him on the bed, still stroking his cheek tenderly. A small, crooked smile creased Bobby's lips.

"You thought I meant something else."

It was not a question, and Alex couldn't see the point of lying. It would do neither of them any good.

"Yes," she said. "You scared me for a second, there."

"I've thought about it," he admitted softly. "More than once. But then I think about that night, and everything I went through. I… I figure if I could survive that, then I can survive this. Right?"

She leaned in and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

"Right. And we're all here for you, Bobby. Me, Mike, Jo, Captain Deakins… Olivia and Elliot… You're not alone."

He continued to smile at her, even as his eyes fluttered closed again.

"I know."

* * *

_The following morning_

"Excuse me… Detective Goren?"

Bobby looked up in vague surprise to find one of the civil staff standing there by his desk. He'd been so caught up in the papers he was reading that he hadn't heard her approach. He paused for just moment, searching his memory for her name.

"Emma, isn't it?"

She smiled and blushed, and it was with some effort that he didn't grin openly in response. It seemed that even with the scarring from his attack, he still had the knack of making the office girls quiver. Quietly, he was glad Alex and Mike weren't around right at that moment. Otherwise, he could have fully expected a real hazing from them both over flirting with the office girls. Even if he didn't actually mean to…

"That's right," Emma said shyly. "I was asked to bring this up to you. It was dropped off at the front desk downstairs a little while ago."

Bobby's gaze went to the envelope she held in her hands. It was a regular sized envelope, sealed with only his name on the front. He glanced around quickly, but Jo was nowhere in sight. She'd offered to get him a decent cup of coffee from Starbucks (though his excitement at being back in One Police Plaza had not yet worn off, his tolerance of the bullpen coffee _had_) and apparently had not yet come back.

"Would you open it for me, please?" he asked. When she hesitated, Bobby smiled apologetically and held up his hands. "I'm still having trouble picking things up."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry," Emma gasped, reddening even more. "Of course, just a second…"

Bobby swallowed the urge to smirk openly as she slit the envelope open, pulled out a single page and set it down on the desk in front of him.

"Okay, Detective?"

He smiled at her warmly.

"Thankyou, Emma."

She blushed again, and trotted off towards the lifts. Bobby watched her go, not quite able to keep himself from admiring the rear view, before returning his attention to the letter in front of him. Seconds later, every ounce of warmth drained out of him as he recognised his brother's scratchy hand-writing. His breath caught in his throat and for a split second he considered putting it in the bin without reading a word. Then, slowly, curiosity overcame common sense, and he began to read.

* * *

Captain Deakins looked up, startled, as his office door banged open and Bobby stumbled in, white-faced.

"Bobby? What's wrong?"

"Please," Bobby said hoarsely. "I need you to call Bellevue. Someone has to check on Richie."

Deakins stared up at him, baffled and concerned.

Bobby, sit. I want to you to calm down, and tell me what's wrong."

Instead of sitting, though, Bobby slapped the crumpled page down on Deakins' desk in front of him.

"For God's sake, be careful!" Deakins burst out as Bobby winced at the sharp pain through his fingers that the gesture caused.

"Please," Bobby begged him. "Just call? I need to know that he's okay. Please…"

Frowning, Deakins picked up the phone and dialled the number. It was answered on the third ring.

"…Yes, this Captain James Deakins, of the NYPD. I'm calling to inquire about the welfare of one of your high security patients, Richard Goren… Yes, I'll hold."

As tinny music issued from the earpiece, Deakins looked back up at Bobby.

"I'm sure everything's fine… Yes, I'm still here." Deakins fell silent, and even as Bobby watched, the captain's face literally drained of colour. "When did this happen…? And when, exactly, were you planning on notifying us? Really… No, not yet. I'll be in touch later. Thankyou."

Deakins hung the phone up, drew in an unsteady breath, and looked back up at Bobby.

"Sit down, Bobby."

"What's happened?" Bobby asked hoarsely. Deakins motioned to the chair.

"Bobby, sit down."

He put an extra dose of authority into his voice, and it had the desired effect. Bobby sat with a thud, borderline panic on his face.

"Captain, please, just tell me."

Still Deakins hesitated, unsure of just how much he should divulge. Finally, though, he conceded, knowing he couldn't hide the truth… or the pain that the truth would bring… indefinitely.

"Bobby… Richie's dead."

Bobby sat frozen, his face colourless with shock.

"How?"

"You don't need to know those details," Deakins told him softly. When Bobby opened his mouth to protest, Deakins cut him off. "No, Bobby. I'm not kidding. You really do _not_ need to hear it."

"Was it murder?" Bobby asked, feeling an irrational surge of hope.

"No," Deakins answered. "It wasn't murder. And it wasn't an accident. The coroner will have to submit a report, but according to the doctor, it appears to have been suicide."

Bobby didn't respond. Indeed, he no longer seemed to even be seeing the captain. As Deakins watched, his breath started to hitch in his chest as he struggled to breathe evenly. Sensing a looming panic attack, Deakins hurried from his office to go and get some water from the break room for the detective. He was just emerging with a glass when he caught sight of Bobby disappearing out of the bullpen, around the corner to where the lifts were.

Cursing softly, Deakins set the water back down and took off after Bobby. He got to the lifts just as the doors closed. He banged the down button to no avail. The lift began its downward descent, taking Bobby with it.

Deciding against waiting for the next lift, Deakins ran to the stairwell and began to make his way down as fast as he could without going head over heels. He could only hope that the lift would make enough stops on the way to the lobby that he would be able to beat it down.

He emerged into the lobby at a run, but a quick glance revealed both lifts to be open and empty. He scanned the lobby frantically, and finally spotted the big detective at the main doors. Desperate to keep Bobby from running, Deakins shouted aloud, "Goren, _stop_!"

Startled silence descended on the lobby and, briefly, Bobby looked back at Deakins. For a split second the two men stared at each other from opposite ends of the lobby. Then, Bobby pushed through the glass doors in the open quad beyond.

Deakins shot forward, dodging several people in his rush to follow. He burst through the doors into the sunlight, blinking hard for a moment as he scanned the area for any sign of his detective.

It was too late. Bobby was gone.

* * *

_tbc..._


	33. Return to the Scene of the Crime

A/N: This is just a short chapter compared to the previous one, but that's how it goes. And I wanted to get something up while I flesh out what happens next.

* * *

Deakins strode back into his office and snatched up the offending letter. He peered at it for a long moment before shaking his head in disgust and dropping it back onto the desk. He then strode back out into the bullpen and looked around.

"Jackson, Hanlon!"

The two detectives immediately left what they were doing and hurried over.

"Problem, sir?" Jackson wondered.

"You saw Bobby Goren leave?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay. I need the two of you to drop what you're doing, get your SUV and get out on the streets and start looking for him. He is not physically or emotionally fit to be wandering around on his own."

"Sure," Hanlon agreed. "But, what's happened?"

Deakins hesitated, and then spoke in a more subdued tone.

"Bobby's brother committed suicide in custody at Bellevue last night."

"Shit," Jackson muttered. "No wonder he flipped out. Okay, Captain, we're outta here."

Deakins watched them go, and then turned and trotted back into his office, snatching up the phone and dialling Mike Logan's cell phone. It was answered on the third ring.

"_Logan_…"

"Mike, this is Captain Deakins. Where are you and Alex?"

"_Just heading back from Queens now. Why?_"

"We have a problem. Bobby's taken off."

There was the sound of a ruckus over the phone, and then Alex's voice sounded loudly, forcing Deakins to hold the phone away from his ear.

"_What do you mean, he's taken off? Where? Why?_"

"Richard Goren is dead," Deakins told them grimly. "He committed suicide in custody last night."

"_Oh, fuck_…" Mike's voice sounded in the background.

"Bobby took off from One Police Plaza," Deakins went on quickly. "I've already sent Hanlon and Jackson to look for him on the streets, but you two would have a better clue about where he might go."

"_Okay, Captain,_" Mike answered. "_We'll find him._"

Deakins hung up just as Jo came into the office.

"Jim? Where's Bobby?"

Deakins looked around at her.

"Grab your coat, Jo."

She regarded him in visible surprise.

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to go searching for Bobby. We just found out that his brother committed suicide last night, and he took off."

"Oh no… Jim, anything could happen to him!"

"I know. That's why we have to find him as quickly as possible. C'mon, Jo, let's move."

* * *

"So where would he go?" Mike asked as Alex took the next right, accelerating as much as she dared in the busy midday traffic.

"Somewhere he'd feel safe," Alex guessed. "The library, maybe."

Mike nodded.

"Okay, we'll start there."

* * *

Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson were just emerging from the New York Public Library when Olivia spotted Mike and Alex coming up the steps.

"Hey, guys," Olivia greeted them. "Something wrong?"

"Very wrong," Mike confirmed grimly. "We're looking for Bobby. You didn't happen to spot him in there, did you?"

Elliot shook his head.

"No, but we didn't get past Reception, either. Isn't Jo with him?"

"He took off from One Police Plaza," Mike explained.

"Took off?" Elliot echoed. "Why? What's happened?"

"Richie Goren is dead," Mike said.

"_What_…?" Olivia asked incredulously.

"He killed himself last night," Alex told them, her voice high with stress. "Bobby didn't take the news too well. He skipped out from One Police Plaza, and now none of us know where he is. We have to find him. He's not in a fit state to be on his own."

"But he can see, right?" Elliot asked, frowning. "I mean, I know this sounds dumb, but he isn't wandering around somewhere blind, is he?"

"The bandages came off a couple of days ago," Alex answered. "He's got limited sight in one eye, and he has an eye-patch over the other eye. Anything could happen to him!"

"Okay," Elliot said firmly. "We'll help. Do you have any other ideas where he might be?"

Frowning, Alex ran off a list of places where she thought Bobby might go for sanctuary. Elliot nodded.

"Okay, we'll check the library together, because it's a damned big place to hide in, and then Liv and I will take the east side of Manhattan, and you guys take the west side. Okay?"

Alex nodded, grateful for the welcome offer of help.

"Thankyou."

"Hey, he's our friend, too," Olivia told her with a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, Alex," Elliot promised her. "We'll find him."

* * *

After more than an hour of frantic searching, Mike and Alex finally rendezvoused back at the library with Deakins, Jo, Elliot and Olivia. All of them were frustrated, and increasingly fearful for the welfare their friend and colleague.

"No luck at all?" Deakins asked.

"I think between us, we've covered just about everywhere that's within walking distance of One Police Plaza," Mike said ruefully. "The guy just doesn't want to be found."

"He could have taken the subway somewhere," Olivia suggested, but Jo shook her head.

"He doesn't have any money on him. He couldn't manage it if he did."

"Well, what about a taxi?" Elliot asked. "He might have tried to catch a taxi somewhere."

"Again, no money," Jo pointed out.

"Unless," Mike mused, "he was going some place where he was pretty sure he could get the cab fare at the other end."

"What are you thinking?" Elliot asked, but Alex had already guessed where Mike's train of thought was going.

"Carmel Ridge…"

"I'll call them now," Deakins said, snapping out his cell phone. "…Hello? Yes, this is Captain James Deakins, Robert Goren's commanding officer. Could you please tell me if he's turned up there…? All right, thankyou. If he does show up, could you please let me know immediately…? Thankyou. Yes, you have my cell phone number on file. Yes, that's right. Thankyou."

He closed his phone and found himself returning five disconsolate expressions that he imagined mirrored his own.

"He's not there. They'll let us know if he does show up there, though."

"Goddamn it, where could he be?" Alex burst out, tears brimming her eyes. "I'm going to hit him so hard for this…"

"Alex, calm down," Deakins directed her. "Now, think. You know him better than anyone. Where might he have gone?"

"I don't know!" she choked out. "I don't know where he could have gone! We've already checked all the places I could think of. I don't know where else to try!"

"Maybe he's just gone home," Elliot suggested with little hope. Jo shook her head.

"No, that was the first place Jim and I tried."

"And the fifth," Deakins added ruefully. Alex suddenly froze, her breath catching in her throat as a new idea occurred to her.

"Alex, honey, what is it?" Olivia asked softly, but Alex didn't respond directly.

"He wouldn't have…" she whispered, a frown creasing her face, but even as she tried to dismiss the thought, she knew deep in her gut that she was right.

"Alex?" Deakins asked tensely. "What have you thought of?"

She blinked hard and looked up at him finally.

"I think I know where he might have gone."

"Where?" Mike asked anxiously. "C'mon, Alex, spit it out!"

"I think he might have gone home."

Momentary confused silence reigned, and then Jo spoke tentatively.

"But we've already checked there twice, and he wasn't there…"

Alex shook her head.

"No, not my home. _His_ home. Jo, what was it that Bobby said to you yesterday when you got back from Bellevue?"

"He said he wanted for none of it to have happened."

Alex looked back at Deakins.

"He's gone back to his apartment, where the attack happened. I'm sure of it."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Olivia argued. "Why would he go back there? It's not logical."

"We're not talking about someone who is operating in a logical frame of mind," Deakins pointed out. "But besides that, we've looked everywhere else. It's at least worth a try."

Mike nodded his agreement.

"We've looked in all the rational places. Let's start looking in the irrational ones."

Elliot clapped his hands together, anxious to get moving.

"Let's go, then."

* * *

They arrived at Bobby's old apartment building to a surprising sight. Several of the tenants were out on the street, blocking the entrance and arguing with a man who they suspected was the new building Superintendent.

"Hey," Elliot shouted above the angry din as they approached the group. "What's going on?"

The Super spoke up angrily.

"These clowns won't let me in. I'm the Super here, and they're keeping me out of my own building! And to top it off, I've got a nutcase up on the fourth floor who's broken into one of the apartments!"

"Nutcase…?" Mike echoed, feeling his hopes soar.

"Nutcase my ass!" one of the tenants exploded. "That's just Bobby Goren, and it's his goddamn apartment!"

"Not anymore, it's not!" the Super roared back. "That apartment was sold just this morning. It's not his anymore, and if he doesn't clear out I'll call the cops!"

Mike clapped a firm hand onto the Super's shoulder.

"Newsflash, pal. We _are_ the police. Now, I suggest you go and shut yourself in _your_ apartment, have a nice cup of coffee and let us deal with this."

"You're going to arrest him for breaking and entering, right?" the Super asked as Mike directed him through the crowd of angry tenants, and back into the building. "I want to press charges!"

"Did I forget to mention that Bobby's a cop, too?" Mike asked casually. The Super's face fell.

"Great. So what you're saying is that you're not going to do anything."

Mike slung his arm around the guy's shoulders and ushered him to the door of his apartment.

"Let's go into your place, Mr… Sorry, what was your name?"

"Crandall. Matt Crandall."

"Okay, Mr Crandall. How about we go into your place, and I'll explain a few facts."

Mike glanced back towards Deakins as he followed Crandall into the apartment, and Deakins nodded in wordless acknowledgement and gratitude as the detective disappeared from sight into the apartment.

"Okay," Deakins said firmly, looking back at the group of tenants who had followed them back into the building. "Bobby's up in his apartment right now?"

One of the tenants nodded, all anger vanishing from his features with the removal of the Super from the situation.

"Yeah. He's in a really bad way."

"How do you mean, in a bad way?" Olivia asked as they began to make their way up the stairs.

"Like he doesn't even know where he is. He was pretty distressed when he got here, but now we can't get through to him at all. Even old Mrs Pirelli hasn't been able to reach him. He's really out of it, you know?"

"And that idiot Super was just gonna call the cops," someone else said heatedly. "That's why we had him bailed up outside. Bobby's not doing any harm. The guy needs help, not some asshole turning him in for some trespass bullshit."

"And he didn't break and enter," a third man said. "The apartment door was unlocked when he got there. That stupid moron Crandall left it unlocked this morning after a realtor took someone through it."

"Okay," Olivia said firmly as they came out onto the fourth floor. "Thankyou all for your concern, but we'll take it from here."

"Look, just make sure that he's okay?" someone asked. "Bobby's a good guy… He didn't deserve all the crap that's been dealt to him. He doesn't need anymore trouble."

"He's not going to be in any trouble," Deakins assured them. "We're here to help him, I promise you."

* * *

They reached the door of the apartment to find Bobby's former neighbours, Rosa Pirelli and Chris and Dana Watson, hovering by the door and looking in anxiously.

"Alexandra," Rosa exclaimed, audibly relieved. "Thank God you're here. Poor Robert… He needs you badly."

"He's in there?" Alex asked, and Chris Watson nodded.

"Yeah. We tried talking to him, but he got kind of hysterical, so we came out again."

"He's in the bedroom," Dana said softly, tears in her eyes. "The poor thing, I've never seen anything like it. We just couldn't break him out of it. It… It's like he's reliving the attack all over again."

Alex started into the apartment, only to be halted by a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Alex," Deakins said softly, "maybe you should let Elliot and Olivia try first."

She shook his hand off, though.

"He's my partner. I'll go in to him. It'll be okay."

For a long moment, it seemed as though Deakins was going to argue. Then, finally, he conceded reluctantly.

"All right. But if things get out of hand, you call for us."

She nodded wordlessly, and walked into the apartment.

* * *

_tbc..._


	34. Turning Point

It was a bizarre experience, walking into a completely emptied apartment that she had once been so familiar with. She paused just briefly inside the door, looking around with a sickening feeling deep in her gut. She had only set foot in here once since the attack, and that was to recover for Bobby what few articles of clothing had not been ruined. The place had been cleaned thoroughly and showed no outward sign of the horrific crime that had been committed within its walls, but it still felt tainted. She fervently hoped that, once they got Bobby out of there, she would never have reason to set foot in the apartment again.

Withholding a shudder and reminding herself why she was there, Alex crossed the floor to the room that had once been Bobby's most private and cherished sanctuary.

He sat on the floor on the other side of the room against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, rocking back and forth ever so slightly and looking for all the world like a little lost boy. He was trembling badly, in visible distress with his chest hitching with ill-suppressed sobs and distraught moans escaping from his lips.

Alex bit down on her lower lip, suddenly struggling to hold back her own tears. It was a heartbreaking sight; this once strong man, a confident police detective, reduced to such a state of complete vulnerability. At that moment, Alex was bitterly sorry that Richard Goren was dead, because she would have dearly loved to have killed him herself.

She paused in the doorway, considering how best to approach him. With the state he was in, she couldn't know if he would be aware of her presence or not. For all she knew, Bobby would see not her, but rather Matic, Cozza, or even his pathetic excuse for a brother. It wasn't that she feared him lashing out at her; she didn't. But at the same time, nor did she wish that sort of guilt on him, and he would feel guilty for striking out at her, regardless of whether he was in his right mind or not.

Finally, she walked over and knelt down on the floor immediately opposite him, taking care to stay just out of reach.

"Bobby."

She spoke quietly, calmly, making every effort to suppress the anguish she was experiencing for him. When he came back to reality, she did not want him to see her upset. It would only serve to upset him even more than he already was.

There was no response from him. He continued to stare ahead, not at her but straight through her, trapped as he was by his terrifying memories. Alex drew in a steadying breath and tried again.

"Bobby! Look at me!"

She raised the volume of her voice a little, hoping that she could snap him out of it without bringing the others in. The last thing he needed right then was to be inundated by other people. She was sure she could bring him around, but she needed time and privacy, without interference from anyone else. Bobby was her partner, and this was her task alone.

That time she got a reaction. Slowly, Bobby blinked and his gaze finally focused on her. For nearly a minute, he just stared at her, and she found herself wondering if he even recognised her. Then, he spoke in a soft, shaky voice.

"Alex…"

"I'm here," she reassured him, but still refrained from moving any closer. "Talk to me, Bobby. Show me that you're still here with me."

Bobby shuddered and started to look away.

"No, look at _me_," Alex insisted. "Focus on _me_. Don't slip away from me, Bobby. Stay with me. Talk to me."

To her relief, he allowed himself to be drawn back to her by the power of her voice. He looked back to her, and it was all she could do not to cringe away from the sheer pain and misery that she saw in his face.

"Why are you here, Bobby?" she asked softly. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I… I want…"

"You want what?"

"I want everything to be the way it was."

Slowly, she began edging towards him.

"I wish that too, Bobby. But we both know it won't happen."

"Everything's changed," he whispered, looking away.

She moved up beside him, but was careful to avoid touching him, at least for the moment.

"Some things have changed," she conceded gently, "but not everything."

For nearly a minute, he didn't respond, and Alex continued to wait patiently until he did. Finally, he looked back around at her as her words gradually sank in. She continued to speak once she was sure she had his attention.

"I'm still here, Bobby. No matter what happens, nothing's going to change that. I'm not going to leave you. And there are people waiting outside who care about you, and who aren't going to abandon you either."

The look on his face was gut-wrenching. She knew he wanted desperately to believe her, but couldn't quite bring himself to.

"When… When I was a boy," he told her in between hitching breaths, "I just wanted a family like everyone else seemed to have. Richie understood… and he looked after me. But somewhere along the line, we… we lost that connection. I don't know if… if it was my fault… or his… or no one's."

"You weren't to blame for any of this," she insisted. "You have to believe that, Bobby. It was not your fault."

Bobby's head dropped, but not before she caught sight of fresh tears in his good eye.

"I want my brother back," he whispered moments before he dissolved once more into tears.

Alex couldn't hold back any longer. Shifting across, she slipped her arms around him and drew him to her in a loving embrace. Gradually, Bobby relaxed and allowed himself to be pulled the hug and, for the time being, lost himself in his grief.

She continued to hold him, even after his sobs eased. His words had given her an insight, however small, into his heartache. As dysfunctional as his family had been in the past, it seemed that a not-so-small part of him had clung to the hope of reconciliation. Richie's actions towards Bobby, and then his subsequent death, had effectively shattered beyond repair what slim hopes Bobby had.

He was not grieving now for the monster that had attacked and brutalised him, Alex realised. He was grieving for the brother that he remembered from his fractured childhood; the brother whom he had loved, and had loved him in return.

"Let us help you," Alex murmured, hugging him to her. "Let us help you, Bobby."

"I knew," he whispered suddenly. Alex was puzzled, but continued to stroke his cheek gently, soothingly.

"You knew what?"

"That it was Richie. Before… Before I recognised Matic, I knew Richie was responsible… but I blocked it out. I didn't let myself remember… until that day that Captain Deakins brought Mom in to see me."

"I don't blame you for repressing that," she murmured. Bobby shuddered against her.

"Knowing Richie had done that to me… That hurt worse than anything that Matic and Cozza did to me. I… I thought, if I can't trust my own brother, tho the hell can I trust?"

"Me," Alex told him firmly. "You can trust me. And there's also Mike, the captain, Jo, Elliot and Olivia. We all care about you, Bobby."

"I trust you," Bobby admitted tremulously. "I do…"

"But?"

"But it still hurts. And… I keep asking myself why? What did I do? Or what didn't I do?"

Alex sighed softly.

"It's nothing you did, or didn't do. It wasn't karma, or some sort of divine retribution. It was just three men who couldn't let go of a grudge." She hesitated, and then spoke tentatively. "Bobby, why did you come back here? What were you hoping to find?"

"I don't know," he admitted miserably. "Maybe… Maybe I was just hoping that by coming back here, I could face it all head on, and… and…"

"Take your life back?" she queried. He let his breath out in a rush.

"Yes."

"A bit like you hoped to do yesterday by facing Richie?"

"Yes. But it didn't work. I still had nightmares last night. I… I feel like a coward…"

Alex's grip on him tightened just fractionally.

"You are _not_ a coward, Bobby Goren. Don't you dare put that label on yourself. You survived hours of horrible torture, and you never gave up, even though you might have wanted to, so don't you ever, _ever_ call yourself a coward. Because that's the last thing that you are. Now, you listen to me. The nightmares will go away eventually. It's going to take time, though. You know that. Face your fears, and everything else, but be realistic, too. There's no miracle cure available here."

"I just want it to be over," he choked out. "Why is that so much to ask?"

"It's not," Alex said with a sigh. "But the hard truth is that it just doesn't work like that. You are claiming your life back, but you've got to accept that it's only going to happen one step at a time."

"It hurts, Alex," Bobby said plaintively. "It hurts so much. I always thought that nothing could ever hurt as much as learning the truth about Mom… or as much as Dad walking out… but I was wrong."

She kissed his temple softly.

"There's a difference between then and now, though, Bobby. Do you know what it is?"

He drew in a shuddering breath.

"What?"

"You have another family you can rely on. We might not be related by blood, but that doesn't make the bond between us any less."

Bobby looked up at her quizzically.

"You…?"

"Yes, me, you big dope. I love you like a brother, Bobby, and you've always taken care of me like a sister. And I know you look up to Captain Deakins as a kind of father figure."

"I… I always imagined that's what my father might have been like, if he'd given a damn."

Alex nodded, understanding what he meant.

"Tough, but understanding."

"Willing to listen," Bobby added softly, thinking of the many times Deakins had offered him an open ear, and listened to him when no one else would. He paused, a small smile flickering across his lips.

"So… if we're family, what does that make Mike?"

Alex hesitated in answering. There was a tone in his voice that set off alarm bells in her mind.

"Mike…?"

"Yes. Mike."

"Uh…"

"Well, he can't strictly be a part of our little family," Bobby pointed out. Alex was starting to feel distinctly uneasy.

"Why is that?"

Bobby's smile widened and he pulled back from her just a little. After the distress and despair of the past couple of days, it was a change to be able to tease Alex a little, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

"Well… unless they've changed the laws without telling anyone, it's still considered illegal for a brother and sister to engage in… pre-nuptial relations."

Alex nearly choked.

"You… You jerk! You mean you know?"

He smiled fondly at her.

"Once the bandages came off, it wasn't hard to see the way you two look at each other."

Alex felt her cheeks burn red, and had to resist the urge to hit him. She was torn between feeling embarrassed and being elated at the knowledge that he was feeling inclined to make jokes at all.

"You… don't mind?"

Bobby leaned into her embrace once more.

"Why should I? He's a decent guy. He'll treat you right."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I'll kick his ass," Bobby said matter-of-factly, bringing a smile to Alex's face. "And believe me, that'll be a lot easier to do now that I can see again."

"Not to mention he'll be too scared to fight back in case he hurts you?"

"Damn straight."

Alex chuckled softly.

"That's my Bobby. And you're right. You can see. Your body is starting to heal, Bobby." She gently placed the palm of her hand over his heart. "And this will heal too, with time and patience."

Bobby sighed softly.

"I can't promise that I'll always be patient."

"I know. I wouldn't ask that of you. But what I will ask is that you don't ever try to push me away. I'll always be here for you, Bobby, but you have to come to the party, too, and not push me away when you're hurting."

"Like now, you mean."

"No, this falls into the category of running away, and warrants a whole other lecture on its own."

Bobby grimaced.

"I can't wait."

Alex grinned. "I'll bet you can't. Because Deakins is probably the one who'll be giving it to you."

Bobby sucked in a sharp breath as he realised what she was talking about.

"I… I ran out on him, didn't I?"

"Apparently."

"Is he… mad at me?"

Alex hugged him more fiercely this time.

"No, he's not. He was just worried. We all were. Bobby, I love you, but don't you ever take off like that again!"

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know you told me never to apologise, but I'm sorry for that. I didn't mean to scare everyone, but when the captain said Richie had suicided… It was like my mind just shut down. I couldn't think straight, and suddenly all I could think of was getting the hell out of there, and away from everyone. I… I didn't think at all about it. I just ran."

She leaned in to kiss him once more, this time on the cheek.

"Well, next time you feel like running, try running to me."

Bobby sighed softly.

"I can't promise that for sure… but I'll try."

She smiled warmly at him.

"That's all I'm asking. Now, do you think you might be ready to get out of here?"

Bobby looked around them slowly, a deep sadness reflected on his pale face.

"Yeah… I guess so."

She pulled back from him and got to her feet.

"Do you need any help to get up?"

He flashed a crooked smile at her and, with careful manoeuvring, shifted onto his knees and from there got awkwardly to his feet.

"Let's get out of here."

She took his arm gently, only to look up in surprise when he didn't move.

"Bobby? What is it?"

He hesitated for just a moment before leaning down and kissing her lightly on the lips.

"Thankyou, Alex. I love you, too."

Her face literally melted into a radiant smile. Then, feeling better than either of them had for some time, they headed out of the apartment together.

* * *

_tbc..._


	35. Reconciliations

A/N: Apologies for the length of time it's taken to post this chapter, but I got a run going with _Trapped_, and couldn't turn it off. But I needed to get this chapter done. We are definitely winding down, now, but there is still a bit more to come.

* * *

Deakins was the only one at the doorway when Bobby and Alex finally emerged. Jo, Elliot and Olivia were waiting further down the hallway with Chris, Dana and Rosa. He backed away from the door, giving them room to come out.

"Are you okay?" he asked, eyeing Bobby with open concern. Bobby hesitated, and then spoke softly.

"Not really… but I will be."

Deakins nodded, satisfied by that.

"C'mon," Alex murmured, rubbing his back gently. "Let's go."

She and the captain ushered Bobby down the corridor, but he stopped when they got to where the others were waiting. Alex and Deakins exchanged worried glances as Rosa moved into his line of sight, but neither said a word.

"Robert," Rosa said softly, looking up at him. "I'm so sorry."

In response to her tearful apology, Bobby put his arms carefully around her and hugged her to him.

"Thankyou, Mrs Pirelli."

Confusion filled her aging face.

"For what?"

He favoured her with a small smile.

"For my life, Mrs Pirelli. If you hadn't come looking for me, I wouldn't be here now. So I'm thanking you, for helping to save my life."

Rosa shuddered and hugged him fiercely around the waist.

"Il mio ragazzo prezioso, lei è veramente angelo…."

Bobby smiled sadly.

"Sono nessuno angelo, Pirelli di Signor. Giusto un uomo molto fortunato di avere un amico come lei per guardare fuori per me."

Rosa gently bracketed his pale cheeks with trembling hands, and brought his face down so she could kiss him gently on the forehead.

"Occuparsi di te stesso, l'angelo prezioso. Non ha mai paura, ed imparare a amare la vita ancora."

Bobby returned the kiss, pressing his lips lightly to the elderly lady's forehead.

"I will, Mrs Pirelli. Thankyou."

He drew back from her, and his attention went to Chris and Dana.

"Don't be a stranger," Dana told him, giving him a brief, warm hug. "Come by any time, okay?"

"Sure," Bobby murmured.

It was a hollow promise, and they both knew it. Once he left the building this time, there would be no coming back again for him.

Chris clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"It's good to see you on your feet again, man."

Bobby nodded wordlessly. Nodding their thanks to the neighbours, Deakins and Alex guided Bobby down the corridor to the lift, where Elliot, Olivia and Jo waited.

* * *

Mike was waiting for them in the lobby of the building, looking impossibly casual leaning against the wall just inside the main entrance.

"We all set to go, then?" he asked calmly, as though absolutely nothing had been amiss in the first place, and they were all there because they were supposed to be. They filed out of the building, but before Alex could guide him to her and Mike's SUV, Bobby paused to look around at Elliot and Olivia.

"Thankyou," he said softly, sincerely. Elliot smiled reassuringly at him.

"It's okay, Bobby. Anytime. We're just glad you're all right."

"Just don't do it again, okay?" Olivia told him teasingly, giving him a quick hug. Bobby smiled a little sheepishly.

"I'll try not to."

Olivia rolled her eyes comically, but said nothing else as she and Elliot headed off finally. Once they'd gone, Deakins spoke quietly.

"I know you're probably sick and tired of being asked this, Bobby, but I'm going to ask it again. Are you okay?"

Bobby let his breath out in a long sigh.

"It… hurts. I won't deny that. And even though I know it's not my fault, a part of me still wants to accept responsibility for it."

"You can't be held responsible for anyone's actions but your own," Mike pointed out firmly. "Your brother was a vindictive coward, Bobby. That's not your fault, not now and not ever."

"I know," Bobby said. "I _know_ that… But knowing it doesn't make it any easier to… to accept it. And it still hurts…"

"It's going to hurt for a long time, baby," Jo murmured. "All we're asking is that you don't keep it to yourself. Start learning to share, and you might find it'll be easier for you to cope with it."

Deakins nodded his agreement.

"We want to be able to help you, Bobby. But you have to be willing to let us."

Bobby considered for a long moment.

"I appreciate that… but it's not that easy."

"You think we don't understand that?" Alex asked. "We do. But we're willing to be patient. You just have to be willing to try."

Bobby looked around at them, touched to the heart and warmed right through his lonely soul.

"I… I think I can do that. I can try."

Alex hugged him gently.

"That's all we're asking."

* * *

"So do we get to find out exactly what triggered all of that?" Mike asked as they headed into Deakins' office later that afternoon, after taking Bobby and Jo home. Deakins walked around and sat down in his chair with a thud. After a moment, he reached out and snagged the letter off his desk and held it out to Mike.

"This was delivered to Bobby this morning. Read it through, and when you've done that I want you to find out just how the hell it made it out of Bellevue and into Bobby's hands."

Mike took the letter and read it through with a deep frown on his face.

"Son of a bitch… No wonder Bobby went off the rails. That selfish, vindictive bastard…"

"It's from Richie?" Alex asked as she crossed to the other side of the office to examine a picture. Mike nodded.

"Yeah. You probably don't want to hear it."

"Just read the goddamn thing and get it over with."

Mike sighed softly, and did as she asked.

"_Bobby, if all goes to plan, by the time you get this, I'll just be a memory. I wonder what memories you'll keep of me. Will you remember how I used to look out for you when we were kids? Or will you prefer to remember how you turned me against you? I won't turn this into your typical sappy goodbye letter, because nothing about us was ever typical, and you deserve to know just how much you contributed to the way my life turned out. I did my best for you when we were kids, and you repaid that debt by turning your back on me when I needed you most. I don't regret what I did to you, Bobby, and the truth is, you deserved a lot worse that what you got. You at least have a chance to get your life back again. That will never happen for me now. It's another thing you've robbed me of. All I wanted when you came to see me was for you to say you forgave me, and you couldn't even do that much. You accused me once of turning out just like Dad, but you're the one keeping the hate in your heart. I hope you realise how much you're responsible, both for your own circumstances, and my death. It's all on your head, Bobby. My only comfort is in knowing you'll take that guilt with you to your grave. I'll see you in hell, little brother_."

"That son of a bitch," Alex whispered, tears pricking at her eyes. Mike tossed the letter down on Deakins' desk.

"He had to take one last shot. Fuck…"

"He was wrong, though," she said, turning back to look at her captain and her temporary partner. Deakins looked back at her quizzically.

"About what, Alex?"

"About Bobby taking the guilt with him to his grave. Bobby knows he's not responsible. He knows that nothing Richie did is in any way his fault. He's accepted that." She motioned at the letter. "That will have hurt him… but it's not going to emotionally cripple him. He's going to be okay, despite Richie's worst intentions."

Deakins smiled a little.

"You really got through to him before, didn't you?"

Alex sighed.

"The irony of this situation is that he's gained more close friends than he ever had before, but I still know him better than anyone. I got through to him because he trusts me like no one else. He was willing to let me in, even if he wasn't consciously aware of it."

"Captain," Mike asked tentatively, "how did Richie kill himself? The guy was locked up in high security."

"He cut his wrists open," Deakins told them softly. "He bled out before anyone realised there was a problem."

"Cut his wrists?" Alex asked in disbelief. "With what? He wouldn't have been allowed access to any sharp objects at all!"

Deakins looked slightly sick to his stomach.

"He had his teeth."

Stunned silence met the statement.

"His… teeth?" Mike echoed in shock. "He… _bit_ his wrists open!"

"Now you know why I refused to tell Bobby," Deakins said. "And I think it would be best if he never finds out."

"Are you kidding us?" Alex retorted. "This is Bobby we're talking about! If he wants to know how it happened, he's going to find out, one way or another. You can't sit there and say it'd be best if he never finds out, and then expect him to accept that."

"You said he trusted you, Alex. Well, I'm hoping he'll trust me enough to accept it when I told him he was better off not knowing."

"You're assuming an awful lot," Mike pointed out. Deakins nodded.

"Maybe. But I think this time might be an exception. At least, I'm hoping it will be."

"I think it might be," Alex said quietly. She regarded the men with a quiet confidence as she recalled witnessing Bobby's recovery from his breakdown in his old apartment. "This time… I think it just might be."

* * *

"Jo?"

Jo came out of the kitchen, and blinked in surprise to find Bobby standing by the front door of the apartment, fumbling awkwardly with his coat.

"Bobby? What do you think you're doing?"

"Can you help me with my coat?" he asked softly. "I… I can't manage it on my own."

Jo, however, didn't move, raising an eyebrow quizzically at him.

"I repeat, what do you think you're doing?"

"Going out."

"I can see that. Considering everything that's happened today, don't you think it might be a good idea to rest up for a while? Then, if you still want to go for a walk later, we can do that."

"I don't want to go for a walk," Bobby admitted uncomfortably. "I… want to go _out_."

Jo sighed faintly.

"Honey, I hate to have to be blunt, but you look like you haven't slept for a week. You _need _to rest. Don't make me get tough on you."

He was silent for a long moment, and Jo could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out how to get around her. She waited, curious to see what he would come up with. He'd learnt quickly that she took no nonsense, and gave little ground, but that knowledge hadn't kept him from pushing the boundaries. It had almost become a game of sorts, with Bobby pushing to see how far she was willing to let him go; and Jo letting him, just to see how far he was game to try her patience.

Bobby rarely came out on top, but every so often Jo had allowed him a small victory in their private battle of wills just to keep his self-confidence up.

"I wanted to go and see Lewis," Bobby finally admitted, in a voice that was little more than a whisper. Jo faltered at that. She had not actually met Lewis herself, but she'd heard all about Bobby's clash with his long-time friend through Mike. She'd offered a few times early on to help Bobby talk to Lewis on the phone, but he'd turned incredibly hostile at the suggestion, and so she'd stopped offering.

"Lewis?" she echoed. "Bobby…"

"I need to talk to him," Bobby said softly. "I… I can't stay angry forever. That's the mistake Richie made. He let himself stay angry… at Mom… at Dad… and at me. I don't want to make that mistake, too. I need to see Lewis. Now… before I chicken out."

In the end, Jo wasn't sure what it was that tipped the odds in Bobby's favour. Whether it was his choice of words, or the pleading look on his face, she quickly realised she couldn't deny him.

"Okay," she conceded with a sigh as she walked over to help him with his coat, "but only on the condition that you agree to have a proper rest when we get back."

He frowned, but said nothing. Jo caught the look, and rubbed his back soothingly.

"You're exhausted, Bobby. You look it, and you sound it. You might not like being told you have to rest, and have a sleep, but it doesn't change the fact that you need it all the same."

"I wasn't going to argue," he pointed out, a little sulkily. "I never said a word."

Jo snorted.

"No, you didn't need to. The look on your face spoke volumes. You might have your sight back, honey, but you have a ways to go yet before you can claim back your independence. Don't get me wrong. It will happen, and I'll be celebrating right along with you when it does, but until then you're stuck with me telling you what to do."

Bobby offered her a small, genuine smile.

"Thanks, Jo."

She chuckled softly.

"C'mon, you goose. Let's go."

* * *

_Lewis' Auto Body Shop_

Lewis was busy working on the underneath of an old Thunderbird when he heard the sound of footsteps on the cement floor of his workshop. He frowned to himself, and made no effort to extricate himself from beneath the car. A glance, though, told him that whoever it was had come to a halt right by the car, and was simply standing there without saying a word.

"Hey, look, I'll be out from under here in a minute," Lewis called out, deciding that he'd better at least make an effort to be polite to what could easily be a prospective customer. "Uh… don't s'pose you could lend a hand, and pass me the number four spanner?"

There was a long silence, and Lewis was just starting to get irritated when a familiar spoke tentatively.

"Sorry, man. The hands still aren't coping too well with picking stuff up."

Lewis sucked in a sharp breath, and then slid out quickly from underneath the car.

"Bobby…"

Bobby smiled hesitantly. All of a sudden he was unsure of the wisdom of coming here. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Lewis. He did, but he suddenly was uncertain about whether Lewis would want to talk to _him_.

"Hey," Bobby greeted him softly.

"Hey," Lewis murmured.

For several seconds, neither man spoke, or even made direct eye contact. Finally, Lewis spoke tentatively.

"You got the bandages off. Man, that's great."

"Yeah," Bobby mumbled.

The silence that followed was almost painful as the two men floundered for some common ground. Then, abruptly, they both spoke at once.

"I'm sorry…"

Lewis' eyebrows shot up incredulously.

"_You're_ sorry? For what?"

Bobby shifted uncomfortably.

"I… I was angry at you… and I shouldn't have been. What are _you_ sorry for?"

Lewis looked faintly embarrassed.

"Well, for the reason you were so angry at me. I let you down…"

Bobby shook his head, then grimaced and swayed a little as the motion brought on a wave of vertigo. Seeing his friend's distress, Lewis reacted quickly, taking him by the arm and leading him into the office.

"You're not here on your own, are you?" Lewis asked as he guided Bobby to sit on the sofa, and set about getting him a glass of water.

"No," Bobby answered. "Jo's outside. We came in her car."

"Jo? Who's that?"

"She… She's my home care nurse."

Lewis flushed red as the implications of that sunk in.

"Oh. Sorry, man. Here…"

Bobby gladly took a sip of the water that Lewis offered him, pulling his head back a little to indicate that he'd had all he wanted.

"Look, Bobby…" Lewis began as he sat in a lumpy-looking armchair opposite his friend. "I really am sorry. When… When I called your place that morning, I was already pissed off that you hadn't shown. I didn't stop to think that you wouldn't just hang up on me without saying anything… and that you wouldn't have stood me up like that without any explanation at all. I just didn't think."

Bobby sighed softly. He looked at Lewis for a moment, and was encouraged to realise that Lewis was looking straight at him without flinching and without hesitation, despite the way he knew his face looked. It gave him courage, and he spoke with growing confidence.

"That wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I was just angry and frustrated…"

"I understand that, Bobby…"

"No, Lewis, let me finish. Please…"

Lewis fell silent, and Bobby went on after a moment, confident that Lewis would let him say what he felt he needed to say.

"I needed an outlet… a target for my anger, I guess. You were just the poor sap who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I… I'm not really angry at you, Lewis. I never was. Not directly. I guess, in the end, I was more angry with myself that I let it happen, but I didn't know how to express that, and so I started taking it out in other ways… Like on you."

Lewis hesitated, waiting to see if there was anything more to come. When Bobby didn't continue on, he took the opportunity to speak.

"You had every right to be angry, Bobby. You still do. But not at yourself, pal. You didn't do anything wrong."

Bobby looked away, but not before Lewis caught a glimpse of tears on his friend's cheeks.

"I know that, but… I can't stop feeling like I did."

Lewis shifted quickly from the chair, over to the sofa to sit beside Bobby.

"Hey, pal, you wanna cry, scream, rant… anything like that, be my guest. The neighbours are used to weird noises coming from in here, anyway."

Bobby gave a short laugh that sounded half strangled.

"Have you been having S&M parties in here again?"

Lewis grinned and punched Bobby lightly on the shoulder.

"Juvenile, man."

"Me? I'm not the one who tried to throw lesbian party in the hopes of adding a threesome to my scorecard."

"That would've worked if you hadn't threatened to tell Alex about it. Spoilsport."

Bobby smiled tiredly. He'd sorely missed this kind of banter.

"I'm sorry, Lewis."

"You don't have to be sorry, Bobby. I understand. And, I mean, I know it's been rough for you."

Bobby shuddered, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. He settled somewhere in between the two, and managed a grim chuckle.

"You always did know how to understate things."

"Hey, everyone's gotta have a skill. So… you got your sight back. What about your hands?"

Bobby looked down at his hands, and felt a familiar twist deep within his gut.

"My right hand is healing. They… They don't know yet if my left hand is going to heal properly. I might never get back full use of it."

"Shit," Lewis muttered. "That's lousy."

"Yeah."

"So, you gonna hang out for a while?"

Bobby had to smile. That was Lewis, able to switch directions at the drop of a hat.

"Not today. Jo only brought me out here because I promised she could take me straight home again. She said I need a nap…"

Lewis sniggered, and then burst out laughing.

"You? Napping? Oh man, that's priceless!"

"Shut up," Bobby grumbled, his face heating up with embarrassment. Lewis snorted.

"Sorry, but you should've picked your words more carefully. And, I just can't picture you taking a nap."

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Not a chance. I mean, seriously, Bobby. What are you, henpecked already? You're not even married!"

Bobby glowered at his friend as he got awkwardly to his feet.

"C'mon outside, Lewis. I want to introduce to Jo."

* * *

Back home over an hour later, Bobby lay on his bed, quietly reflecting on the day's events. He'd suffered the most extreme swing of emotions yet, going from content, to shock, to grief, to despair, and finally to acceptance and hope. He still grieved for his brother. Nothing anyone said or did could change that for him. But he was starting to accept in his own heart and mind that Richie's fate was not his fault, not in any way. Perhaps it wasn't entirely Richie's fault, either, but the bottom line was that he was not responsible, and he knew it. He knew it, and he was starting to be able to accept it.

It was a huge step for him to take.

His thoughts slid forward, to his time spent with Lewis that afternoon. It was a step he was glad he'd had the courage to take, to go to Lewis and try to reconcile with him. They'd had a brief but productive conversation, and now Bobby had definite plans to meet up with Lewis on the coming weekend, for what Lewis had called some serious 'guy time'. Whatever that meant.

He sighed softly, smiling to himself as he found himself slipping into a light sleep. He had his sight back. God willing, he would soon get the use of his hands back, and though his brother was gone, he had a good friend back on his side.

Maybe, just maybe, life was still worth the effort after all.

* * *

_tbc..._

_A/N: _Following is the translation of the Italian conversation held between Bobby and Rosa.

_Bobby: I'm no angel, Mrs Pirelli. Just a very lucky man to have a friend like you look out for me._  
_Rosa: Take care of yourself, precious angel. Don't ever be afraid, and learn to love life again_.  
_My precious boy, you truly are an angel._


	36. Because of Her

_A/N: _It's kind of hard to believe I've gotten this far with this story, and the truth is this is the longest fanfic I've ever successfully attempted. This chapter is not the end of this story, mind you. I think there is perhaps one chapter left to come – an epilogue, of sorts. Bobby has one last challenge to overcome.

We are nearly there, though, and boy, what a ride it's been….

Also, my thanks to Zephyrs. You gave me a great idea on how to start this new chapter.

* * *

_The following day  
__Allen, McKenzie & Associates_

Mike Logan paused just after exiting the lift, taking in the spacious reception area of the Allen, McKenzie & Associates law offices. It was everything he expected. Flamboyant, with expensive artworks and a larger-than-life sculpture, couches that looked as though they were meant to be studied rather than sat on, and a receptionist who was looking at him as though he were stain on the picture-perfect setting.

Not even attempting to hide a smirk, Mike sauntered over to the reception desk.

"Can I help you, sir?" the receptionist asked, making no effort to hide her obvious disdain. It was clear to him that her idea of help would be to call the local uniforms to help escort him off the premises. Somehow, that only amused him even more and he leaned against the counter, grinning widely at the pompous young woman.

"I certainly hope so. I've come to see David Parker."

"Mr Parker is very busy. If you'd like to leave your name and a contact number, I'll pass it on to him, and I'm sure he'll get back to you as soon as he can."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Mike agreed mockingly. "Listen, sweet cheeks, be a good girl, pick up that phone and tell Mr Parker that Mike Logan is here to see him. And if that doesn't ring his bell, you tell him I'm a good friend of Bobby Goren's."

The receptionist bristled visibly.

"Mr Logan, I'm going to have to ask you to leave, before I call the police."

Mike pulled open his coat, revealing his gold shield.

"It's _Detective_ Logan, sweetheart. I _am_ the police. Now, make the call."

The woman blanched visibly, and quickly picked up the phone.

"Mr Parker, I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's a detective out here who wants to see you. A Detective Logan, and he asked me to tell you that he's a friend of Bobby Goren."

There was a long moment of silence, and then the woman replaced the handset in its cradle and looked uneasily at Mike.

"Mr Parker will be right out."

"Thought he might be," Mike said with a smirk. He moved away from the reception desk just as a frosted glass door opened and David Parker emerged. He had a false smile plastered onto his too-young face.

"Detective Logan, this is a pleasant surprise."

Mike deliberately ignored Parker's outstretched hand.

"I believe it's a surprise, but I'm not buying the pleasant bit. I want to talk to you. Privately."

Parker raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Do I need a lawyer?"

Mike's lips didn't so much as curl up in response to the lame joke.

"I'm not here as a cop. I'm here as a friend."

"A friend…?"

"Specifically, Bobby Goren's friend."

"Ah. I see."

"I doubt it."

Parker motioned towards the frosted glass doors.

"Perhaps we'd better take this into my office."

Mike nodded, and strode purposefully past Parker.

"I think that's a damned good idea."

* * *

Once inside the sanctuary of his office, Parker dropped the niceties and turned the full blast of his hostility on Mike.

"What's this about, Detective Logan? And make it fast. I'm a busy man."

Mike stared unflinchingly at Parker.

"It's about the letter you dropped off at One Police Plaza yesterday for Bobby Goren. The letter from his psycho brother, Richie."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Mike almost laughed. Almost, but not quite.

"Are you really this stupid, Counsellor? We have you on our security tapes, leaving the damn envelope for him. If it went before a jury, you'd be convicted hands down. So don't stand here telling me you didn't do it. 'Cause I know damn well that you did."

Parker was starting to look more than a little uncomfortable by then.

"What do you want, Detective?"

"A few things, actually. Firstly, I want to know how a no-good cash-challenged bastard like Richie Goren could afford a high-priced lawyer like you."

"That's privileged information…"

The words were barely out of Parker's mouth before Mike shot forward, jamming his forearm underneath Parker's chin and slamming him back against the wall. He pinned the smaller man there, glaring at him in fury.

"You know damned well that Richie wasn't supposed to have any sort of contact at all with Bobby unless it was instigated _by_ Bobby, or organised officially through the people who have power of attorney for Bobby, so don't you dare give me that privileged information bullshit! Now, so far, I'm the only one who's seen the tape with you on it, you slimy little bastard, but I only need to pass it on to my captain and the ADA, and they'll nail your ass to the fucking wall!"

"Wha… What do you want?" Parker choked out, his face slowly turning an interesting shade of purple.

"I want to know who's responsible for that letter, moron. Did Richie really write it himself? Or was someone else pulling the strings?"

Parker gagged.

"I… I can't… Choking…"

Mike stepped back, releasing his hold on the lawyer. Parker collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

"I… I'll have you up for police brutality, you asshole…"

Mike leaned over Parker, his green eyes alight.

"I did a ten year stint in a shitty precinct on Staten Island for punching a councilman. He just happened to piss me off. But this? This is personal, you piece of shit. That letter could have done a whole lot of harm, and I want to know whose idea it was, right now!"

"Matic…" Parker stammered finally, wincing as Mike raised a fist threateningly. "Simon Matic. He hired me to represent both him and Richie. He's been in contact with Richie… but I don't know the details."

"Turning a blind eye, Counsellor?" Mike asked harshly. "How professional of you."

Parker looked up at Mike sourly.

"I was contacted by Simon. He told me to go and see Richie, that he'd have a letter for me to deliver to his brother."

"And you just did it, no questions asked?"

"I wasn't being paid to ask any questions, Detective Logan."

Mike focused his best pittbull look on Parker, and the other man cringed visibly.

"Yeah," Mike snapped, "well, maybe you should have."

Parker glowered resentfully at him.

"What do you care, anyway? I know your reputation, Detective Logan. You're not the kind of person who would give the time of day to a head-case like Bobby Goren, so tell me… Whose ass are you kissing to get back into a Manhattan homicide squad?"

For a split second, Mike very nearly hit Parker. But then, common sense kicked in and he managed to restrain himself.

"You might have been on the money if you'd asked that six months ago, Counsellor. But I've spent the last few months watching a fellow cop go through the proverbial fires of Hell, and come out the other side scarred but intact. I've got nothing but absolute respect for Bobby Goren. He's a great cop and a great man, and I consider myself lucky to be able to count him as my friend. You see, I don't have a whole lot of close friends, so I'll defend to the hilt the ones I do have. And Bobby is right at the top of that list."

Parker got slowly to his feet, rubbing gingerly at his throat.

"What do you want, Detective? For me to burst into tears, say I didn't know, and gush about how sorry I am? If that's what you're after, then you're going to be disappointed. I don't care about your _friend_. I don't give a damn about how brave he might be. That's all bullshit, as far as I'm concerned. All I care about is that my fees are paid. I was paid to do a job, and I did it. End of story."

"So… You don't care that Richie Goren is dead?"

Parker smirked.

"Richie Goren wasn't the one paying my fees, Detective. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really do have work to do."

* * *

"Well?"

Mike grimaced as he slid into the passenger side of the SUV, and began to relate to the other three occupants what he'd learnt.

"Well, he's a soulless son of a bitch. He doesn't give a fuck that Richie's dead, because Richie wasn't signing off on his pay cheques. It seems Simon Matic has that honour."

"Matic," Alex growled in disgust. "Wonderful."

In the backseat of the vehicle, Deakins and Carver exchanged glances.

"Anything else?" Deakins wondered. Mike sighed faintly.

"Nothing concrete that we could nail him with. He fell for the ruse about us having security footage of him bringing in that envelope, but we'd never get that to stick. Not once he wises up that we don't have any footage like that at all. I'm betting that it may well have been Matic who manipulated Richie into writing that letter… and maybe even killing himself… but we've got no way to prove that."

"And Matic isn't likely to come clean and confess to it," Deakins muttered. "He knows damn well that if he gets nailed for anything else, he'll be facing the death penalty."

"If you ask me," Carver said quietly, "I think it's time this case was laid to rest, for Detective Goren's sake, if for no other reason."

"I agree," Deakin said. "We can't get blood out of a stone, and we'd only be causing Bobby more pain in the process. It isn't worth pursuing."

Mike and Alex looked at each other wordlessly for a long moment. Carver and Deakins were right, and they both knew it.

"It's over," Alex said softly, slumping a little in the driver's seat. "It's finally over."

"Not for Bobby," Mike said with a touch of bitterness in his voice. "It'll never really be over for him."

"Maybe not," Deakins conceded, "but we can at least help to ease the burden a little. He has friends to help him. He knows he can trust us to support him. That's the important thing. I think, when all's said and done, he's going to be that much stronger for everything that's happened."

Alex grimaced as she directed the SUV back out into the traffic.

"Now, if the Powers That Be will just see fit to let his hands heal properly…"

"He's due to have new scans and x-rays done on his hands in a few weeks' time, correct?" Carver queried, and Deakins nodded.

"That's right. It's just a progress check for his right hand, but we'll know for certain from those scans whether he'll get back the use of his left hand."

"Another D Day," Mike retorted. "First his eyes, and then his hands."

"Keep the faith, Mike," Deakins told him. "Everything worked out with his eyes. It'll be the same with his hands, too."

"I hope to God you're right," Alex said softly. Deakins smiled briefly before looking away out the window.

_So do I_, he thought ruefully. _Dear God, so do I_.

* * *

_Six weeks later_

"All right, Bobby. Just close your hand gently around the ball. Don't try to apply any real pressure. Just work on holding it in a normal grip. That's it…"

Bobby grimaced in pain as he worked at closing his fingers around the small rubber ball that the physio had placed in the palm of his right hand. It hurt like hell, but he was determined to succeed. After all, it put him one step closer to being able to get back to work, and back to life as it had been before everything had been turned upside down on him. Slowly but surely, his fingers closed around the ball and, at the physio's instructions, he turned his hand around to show that he was truly holding it himself.

"That's excellent," the physio praised him. "I tell you, Bobby, by the time you're ready to start physio with your left hand, you're gonna be practically ambidextrous."

Bobby smiled, but didn't comment, instead focusing his attention on the simple task of putting the ball down, and then picking it up again.

A week ago, he'd been back at the hospital for scans on both of his hands and, like with his eyes, he had been terrified of what those scans might reveal. The only thing that had kept him from panicking completely was Alex's calming presence. She'd stayed with him throughout the tests, keeping him distracted from the pain as the pressure bandages and splint were removed from his left hand so it could be scanned and x-rayed. She'd stayed right by his side while he waited anxiously for Dr Craig to come and see him with the results. And she'd been there to hug him in tearful relief when Dr Craig had told him that his left hand was healing well and, with the right type of physio, he could expect to get back as much as ninety percent functionality.

Needless to say, it would never be quite the same, but ninety percent recovery meant there was no longer any physical barrier to keep him from returning to work when he was ready. His eyes and his hands were healing, his state of mind was getting better every day, and the improvement in his general state of being was visible to all.

There were still difficulties ahead, and Bobby knew and accepted that. However, he also knew with absolute certainty that he didn't need to face those difficulties alone. And in the end, that made all the difference.

One of those difficulties was already on the way to being solved. Thanks to some extra time and effort on Sam Denning's part, Bobby had recently received not only his first monthly payment of six and a half thousand dollars, but also an extra million dollars to serve as a substantial down-payment on a new home and buy whatever furniture he needed. Consequently, Alex, Jo and even Mike had spent hours with him trolling through property guides, searching for a suitable place in a good location.

Not that there was any rush for him to move, Alex had assured him more than once. She was happy for him to stay with her for as long as he wanted.

That suited him fine. Until he got back a decent level of proficiency with at least one hand, he would continue to need assistance with nearly everything he did, and since Jo was only available throughout the day, he didn't fancy being somewhere on his own just yet. So right then, he was very happy to continue staying with Alex.

All in all, though, life was definitely starting to look up again.

* * *

"I've got a proposition for you."

Bobby raised an eyebrow curiously at Alex's choice of words as they left the hospital after his physio session.

"Oh? Really…"

She smiled and thumped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Goren. It's a property matter."

Bobby laughed softly.

"So what's the proposition?"

"Well, you know Trey and Pam Baker? They're two floors above us."

"Mm. What about them?"

"I ran into Trey Baker late last night when I was getting home from One Police Plaza. Trey's mom is in the final stages of cancer, so they're going to move to California to take care of her. Trey's taking up a job offer in LA, so they won't be coming back to New York, and instead of sub-letting, they've decided to just put the apartment up for sale. Now, they know you're scouting for a new place, and Trey told me to tell you that if you're interested to just say so. They're not going to contact their realtor until you let them know. They're willing to skip the formalities and do a private sale if you are interested."

Bobby fell silent, contemplating the news. He knew the Bakers' apartment from a couple of invites to dinner that he and Alex had taken them up on over the last couple of months. It was reasonably spacious for a two bedroom apartment, and only fractionally smaller than his old place.

The Bakers themselves were warm, friendly people, and it touched him that they were making such an offer to him.

"Did… Did he say how much?"

"Eight hundred thousand. I know, the place could easily go for more than one and a half million, but Trey said they'll be moving in with his mother, and he's going to inherit her house when she dies, so they don't need the money to buy a new home. Also, if it's done privately, without using a realtor, everyone will be saving money by not having to pay commissions. So, at that price you could buy the apartment outright, and still have a couple of hundred thousand over to furnish it."

It was a tempting offer, even more-so in that it would mean moving out of Alex's apartment, but still being within close proximity to her. He hadn't been game enough to admit it to her, but one of the main reasons for his reluctance to find a new place of his own had been a deep anxiety at the thought of being beyond Alex's immediate reach.

He still suffered severe nightmares, and not once had Alex gotten frustrated when he called out to her in the middle of the night. Not once had she refused to go to him, to hold him and comfort him. He had long been dreading the first night in a new apartment, when he woke up crying… or even screaming… and Alex was not there to reassure him.

Having an apartment in the same building meant that she was only a lift ride away, and that thought was comforting in itself.

"We could go to work together every morning," Alex told him. "You wouldn't have to battle the subway anymore. And… it's just a quick run up the stairs if you have a nightmare that you can't cope with."

Bobby smiled sheepishly.

"Am I that transparent?"

She returned his smile with a warm one of her own, and hugged him briefly before letting him into the SUV.

"Only to me, Goren. I just know you too well. So, what do you think? Is it perfect, or what?"

"It sounds like it could be exactly what I want," he agreed.

"Great," Alex enthused. "I'll call Trey as soon as we get to work, and let them know that you're definitely interested."

Bobby smiled at her as he settled back into the seat. Alex guided the SUV out of the hospital car park, and once they were back on the street, she hazarded another glance at him. He was still smiling at her.

"What is it, Bobby?"

"Nothing. Just… Thankyou."

"For what?"

"For not quitting on me."

She reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately.

"I could never have done that. But the really important thing is that you didn't quit on yourself. Even when everything was at its worst, you didn't quit."

Bobby thought that over for a long minute before speaking again, softly.

"It was because of you."

She glanced at him, startled.

"What do you mean?"

"That night… when it happened. I… I could have died, Alex. I could have given up and died long before Mrs Pirelli came looking for me. But I hung on… because of you. I… I was afraid of letting you down... and I know that's what I'd be doing if I gave up. Letting you down."

The tears came before Alex had a chance to stop them.

"Bobby… You wouldn't have been letting me down. You were so badly hurt, we all thought it was a miracle you made it through the first surgery. I wouldn't have faulted you if you hadn't been able to find the strength to go on… to keep fighting. I'll always be grateful that you did, but I couldn't ever have blamed you if you hadn't had any will left to live." She wiped at her eyes, and smiled faintly. "You know, I think Elliot Stabler's opinion of you changed right then and there. I think he figured that anyone who could go through an assault like that and live deserved nothing but respect."

"And what about you?"

"Bobby, I thank God every single damn day that you lived, and that you're still here with us. But I never understood how you managed to survive those first few days. It was such a brutal attack… You were clinging to life by a thread, literally. It wouldn't have taken much for that thread to snap."

"I… I survived by thinking of you. Picturing you… your face. It… was all I had… but it was enough."

That was all she could take. Pulling over to the side of the street, Alex unbuckled her belt, turned in her seat and pulled him to her in a fierce, protective hug, all the while crying silently into his shoulder.

"I love you, Alex," Bobby whispered, tears in his own eyes as he willingly submitted to the embrace. She pulled back after a long moment, just enough to place a loving kiss to his cheek, and then moved further around to press her lips to his in a gentle, lingering but chaste kiss.

"I love you too, Bobby. Thankyou."

He regarded her, puzzled.

"For what?"

"For staying, and not giving up. I lost my husband, and that was hard. I couldn't have stood losing you, too."

He pulled her awkwardly back to him, unashamed of the tears on his own face.

"Everything you've done for me… You're my best friend, Alex. No one else would do all that you've done for me. What… what you're still doing for me."

"You would have done the same for me if our positions had been reversed. I know you would have, Bobby. It's not a one-way street."

"Alex… would tell me something?"

"What is it?"

He hesitated before going on, searching for the right words.

"Tell me what happened that night? From your perspective."

She drew back from him slowly, a guarded look on her face.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I need to hear it from someone. I… I don't remember anything after hearing the phone ring that morning… when Lewis tried to call me. It's just a complete blank from that point until I woke up in the hospital."

"Thank God," Alex said fiercely. Bobby nodded.

"I'm not sorry that I don't remember any of it, but I need to know, and no one else will talk to me about it. I… I can't explain it. I just need to know."

Alex let her breath out in a rush. Morbid though it seemed, she thought she understood his desire to know.

"I was at home… just settling in for the evening… when Deakins called. I thought he had a case for us, and I was just about ready to tell him where he could stick it."

Bobby smiled faintly. She hated Sunday night call-outs with a passion. Alex went on quietly, growing sombre as she recalled the awful night with unwanted clarity.

"I asked him if it was a new case, and he said yes, but not for us. Then he told me that a 911 call had gone out from your building, and that SVU had been called to the scene. I knew straight away that something had happened to you. Deakins wouldn't have called me, otherwise. I… I thought you were dead, and I was so scared, I almost didn't hear him answer. Deakins told me you weren't dead, but that you were…" She paused, recalling his words to her. "He said you were in a bad way, and that someone had messed you up pretty badly. I said I was going straight to your place. Deakins didn't want me to go there, but I think he knew he had no chance of stopping me."

"Messed up," Bobby echoed softly, bitterly. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

"He didn't know how bad it was, Bobby. Not right then. He was just going on what Cragen told him over the phone, after the 911 call went through and SVU were called out. Anyway, Olivia was there when I arrived. She tried to keep me out…"

"More fool her," Bobby murmured.

Alex smiled tearfully.

"Exactly. I got around her… God, Bobby, I think I can honestly say that I'd never seen anything so awful in my life… and I've seen a hell of a lot. The only sign you were even still alive was the oxygen mask on your face. It scared me, Bobby. Seeing you like that… You know I don't scare easily, but I was terrified. I kept asking myself, who could possibly have caught you so much off-guard, that they could have taken you down like that? I couldn't understand it… could barely fathom it."

"I… I was going to get the case file…" Bobby admitted. "Look at the crime scene photos…"

"No!" Alex burst out, startling him visibly. "God, Bobby, no! You don't want to see those pictures, _ever_! Please, trust me? It would not be a good idea, not at all. Your nightmares are bad enough now, and seeing those photos would only make it worse."

His shoulders slumped a little.

"It really was bad, wasn't it?"

She pulled him to her for another hug.

"Bobby, it was the worst thing I've ever seen, and I'm not just saying that because it was you. You can't subject yourself to seeing those photos. Not now, not ever. You'd never get rid of the nightmares."

"Is that the same reason why Deakins refused to tell me how Richie died?"

She winced just a little, but didn't let go of him.

"Bobby, I know it's not easy, but you need to trust us now. There are some things that you really are better off not knowing."

"It was pretty awful, wasn't it? The way he died."

"For God's sake, Bobby, will you quit it? I won't tell you. Stop asking!"

"He was my brother, Alex. Don't you think I have a right to know?"

"Of course you do. But look at it this way. If my brother Philip had died horribly… and I mean really horribly… and you knew the details but I didn't… would you tell me?"

He looked at her sincerely.

"If you wanted to know. I might not want to tell you, but I'd rather you hear it from someone who cares about you, rather than out of a case report."

She stared at him, realising how neatly he'd trapped her.

"I'd really like to hit you right now, Goren."

He couldn't bring himself to smile.

"Please, Alex. I have to know."

She sighed softly.

"Deakins is going to kill me."

"He doesn't have to know you told me."

She snorted derisively.

"I don't see how you'll be able to pretend that you don't know. And Deakins is too damned perceptive for either of our goods."

"How did he die, Alex? Please tell me."

"His… his wrists."

"He slit his wrists? With what? How did he get a hold of something sharp enough to do it?"

She was starting to feel sick by then.

"He didn't. Bobby…"

Bobby drew back from her slowly, horrified realisation dawning on his face as he quickly came to the only logical conclusion.

"His… teeth? He used his teeth?"

Shaking her head, Alex strapped her seatbelt back on and guided the SUV back into the slow-moving traffic.

"Sometimes, Goren, you're just too damned smart for your own good. And don't you even think about asking me for anymore details, because I don't know. I don't know, and I don't care. He might have been your brother, but as far as I'm concerned, he was just a no-good piece of shit. He's out of your life now, and that's what matters. He can't hurt you anymore, unless you let him."

Bobby didn't argue with her. Instead, he returned to looking out of the window. The next ten minutes were spent in silence before Alex glanced over at him.

"Bobby? Are you okay?"

He made himself look around at her, and she wasn't surprised to see fresh tears on his cheeks.

"I didn't want for that to happen, Alex. I didn't want Richie dead."

She sighed softly.

"I know you didn't."

Silence reigned for a few minutes, with Alex glancing occasionally at her partner, but he didn't react to her glances. He neither moved, nor spoke for the rest of the trip back to One Police Plaza.

His silence didn't worry her so much as his stillness. Bobby had never been one to stay still for any length of time… but then again, that had been before. Before the attack… Before his life had been shattered in one cruel stroke. He had changed, she mused as they exited the SUV and headed for the lift. Perhaps that had been inevitable, but she guessed it was going to take her some time to adjust once he came back to work properly. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen the first time that he stepped back into the interrogation room to question a suspect… or when he took the stand in court to testify… or when he examined his first crime scene and dead body.

These were all unknowns that they would have to deal with in time, but she felt confident that they _would_ deal with them, together.

And that was the key word – together. Bobby had finally accepted that he didn't need to do any of it alone, that if he was willing to look, he would find people willing to support him. His acceptance of that had been a prime factor in his recovery and, though there was still a long road ahead of him, for the first time she and the others who had surrounded him as a self-designated support base felt confident about the long term outcome for him.

The light had finally appeared at the end of the tunnel, and a damned long tunnel it had been. There was no way any of them planned on letting Bobby slip backwards, and lose sight of that light.

"Am I that fascinating to look at?"

She started, realising that he'd caught her out staring at him. Alex smiled faintly as she led the way out of the lift and back into the bullpen, where Jo was waiting along with Mike and Captain Deakins – waiting to hear how his first physio session had gone.

"I can't help it. You fascinate me, Goren."

His eyebrows went up in amusement, and a small smile lit up his face - the kind of smile that she had not seen from him for far too long.

"I do?"

She grinned as she slipped her arm through his, taking care not to bump his hand.

"C'mon, partner. Let's get some work done."

* * *

_tbc..._


	37. Return to Normal

A/N: _I'd fully expected this to be the last chapter, but as it turns out, it's not. There is one more chapter to come, and I'm fairly sure that that will be the final chapter. Bobby has one last trial to get through before he can completely reclaim his life…_

_

* * *

_

_Approx. 1 month later_

Bobby paused in the doorway of the apartment, looking around with a growing feeling of satisfaction. It was officially moving day, when all the furniture that he'd bought over the last month was to be delivered. Over the course of several exhausting hours, with help from Alex, Mike, Jo, Elliot and Olivia, all that furniture had been moved into Bobby's newly-acquired apartment and set up where he wanted it.

The place still looked a little on the empty side to him, but that would be rectified over time. All in all, it was finally starting to look like a place he could call home.

"Hey, Bobby, move it or lose it, pal."

Bobby stepped quickly aside, moving out of Elliot's way as he carried in one of two boxes of books from Alex's apartment.

"Sorry," he apologised. "I… I was just…"

Elliot grinned reassuringly at him as he set the box down.

"It's okay." He wiped his hands off on his jeans, and looked around approvingly. "The place is looking good, Bobby."

Bobby nodded slowly in agreement.

"Yeah, it is. Thanks for coming to help, Elliot. I really do appreciate it."

Elliot clapped him lightly on the back.

"Hey, I was just glad I could help. How're you feeling, anyway? You must be pretty wiped by now."

Bobby raised an eyebrow in bemusement.

"Me? I'm not the one who's been moving heavy boxes and furniture around all day."

Elliot grinned and shrugged.

"Maybe, but it's still been a long day."

He wasn't referring simply to the physical aspect of the day, and Bobby knew it.

"I am a little tired," he confessed finally, reddening just a little. "I don't feel… wiped, though."

"That's good," Elliot said. "You might just make it through your first full day back at work yet."

Bobby smiled wryly as Elliot opened the box, and began to pass him books to set on a tall bookshelf.

"I think I'll manage okay. It's just going to be paperwork to start with, anyway. Alex and Mike finished wrapping up their last case two days ago, and I think Deakins will probably hold off on giving us any new cases straight away. He'll be watching to see how I'm coping, I guess."

Elliot glanced up at him, curious.

"And you're okay with that?"

"Yes," Bobby said thoughtfully, a small smile on his face. "I am."

"Okay, this is the last box," Mike announced as he carried in another box-load of books. "The ladies are waiting downstairs. I vote we leave this right here, get cleaned up, and go out for a beer."

"Sounds good," Elliot agreed. "Bobby, you up for that?"

Bobby nodded his agreement, grateful that his medication had been reduced sufficiently that he could enjoy an occasional beer again. Anything stronger than that was out of the question, but he at least had his doctor's amused approval for a 'once in a while' treat of a mug of beer. He was even more grateful that he had at least one hand that was now strong enough again to hold a mug, or glass, effectively erasing the humiliation of needing someone else to help him with such a basic task.

"Great," Mike said, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. "Let's go, then."

"You guys go ahead," Bobby said quietly. "I'll catch up in a few."

Elliot and Mike exchanged glances, but neither argued.

"Okay," Elliot agreed, not without reservation. "We'll wait for you down at Alex's apartment."

Bobby nodded, barely noticing when they left. Standing in the middle of the room, he looked around slowly, taking in the atmosphere of the apartment that would soon be his home. He would spend one last night in Alex's apartment, and then tomorrow the bed would be dismantled, brought upstairs and reassembled in the bedroom of his own place.

It was a daunting prospect, more-so than he had imagined. He'd not been game enough to admit it to any of his friends, but he was scared. Scared of being on his own again, scared what might happen if some other perp he'd put away in the past decided to take a shot at him.

No, he corrected himself grimly. He wasn't scared. He was terrified.

Pushing those sickening thoughts to the back of his mind, Bobby focused on his surroundings. One relief in acquiring this place had been in how little it looked like his old apartment. His old place had had cream-coloured walls. This place had walls that were painted a soothing light-blue. His old place had carpet. The new apartment had polished floorboards, which he'd opted to cover in some places with thick, plush rugs.

The new apartment had a large, open kitchen, where his old place had had only a tiny kitchen with barely enough room to spit in.

There was no bedroom ensuite in this apartment, but the bathroom was immediately opposite the bedroom, across a short, narrow hallway that led down to a second bedroom, which Bobby intended to eventually convert into an exercise room. The bathroom itself was again bigger than the one in his old apartment, with a large shower space and a small, one-person spa-bath. The bath was equipped with non-slip matting and rails, something which had delighted Bobby greatly.

The bedroom, on the whole, was smaller, but he found himself not caring about that. His habits had changed, thanks to everything he'd experienced. The bedroom would never again be the sanctuary it had once been. It was a place for a sleeping, and getting changed, and that was all.

His sanctuary, his safe place, was no longer any one particular place but rather a person instead. Specifically, it was a group of people – the very people who now waited for him downstairs. His friends, and his family.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He turned at the sound of Alex's voice and tried to smile, but couldn't quite manage it.

"I will be," he assured her as she walked over and slipped an arm around his waist in an affectionate and protective gesture. "It's just… It's all…"

"A little overwhelming?" she suggested when he faltered. Bobby nodded.

"Yeah."

She hugged him gently.

"It's all part of getting back to normal. You might not be entirely comfortable here to start with… but then, you weren't when you came to stay with me initially, either. Were you?"

Bobby shook his head in a wordless confession. She was right. Though he thought he'd done a fair job of hiding it, he'd been horribly unsettled during his first few days in Alex's home. She _was _right. It wasn't likely to be any different now.

"It's going to be okay," she murmured. "You'll see. You have a new home, but we're still close to each other. So you can call me any time you want, day or night."

He regarded her in amusement.

"You're not going to want to get regular calls from me at two o'clock in the morning, just because I've had a nightmare."

She frowned lightly at him.

"Bobby, we've already been over this. Did I ever complain about getting up to you over the last few months because of nightmares?"

"No," Bobby admitted, suddenly feeling sheepish.

"That's right. And I won't mind now, either. Besides, you tell me, how would it be any different to you calling me at two o'clock in the morning because you'd had a sudden epiphany about a case?"

He went red at that, and Alex smiled and laughed to show him that there were no hard feelings attached to those memories.

"You see?" she told him gently. "It's going to be fine. I'll be right nearby, and you had better call me if you need me, because I promise you I'll be pissed if you don't."

"And I wouldn't want that," Bobby murmured as she deftly turned him towards the door.

"No, you wouldn't. Now, I suggest we get moving, before the others get impatient and go without us. And I want that beer. Okay?"

Bobby smiled as she ushered him out the door of his new home.

"Okay."

* * *

"So," Olivia asked a while later as the six of them sat crowded into booth in a nearby bar. "How does it feel to have your own place again?"

Bobby paused in answering, his gaze flickering just briefly to Alex.

"It's a good feeling. I… I'm relieved… but a little scared, too."

"Well, that's understandable," Elliot murmured. "It's a pretty big step for you. When are you actually going to spend your first night there?"

"Tomorrow night," Bobby confessed.

"Dad and a couple of my brothers are coming around tomorrow to take apart the bed, and move it upstairs into Bobby's place," Alex explained.

"Mm," Elliot said. "Well, needless to say, the first night is probably going to be pretty unnerving."

"He won't be there alone," Alex stated firmly. "Not to start with. I'll be staying with him for a couple of nights, at least, just until he gets settled."

Bobby grimaced, but said nothing. There were a lot of uncertainties in his life right then, but one thing he _was_ certain of was that it would take more than a couple of nights for him to get settled.

Seemingly oblivious to Bobby's reaction, Olivia nodded her approval.

"Well, a little bit of company to start with isn't a bad thing."

"And then when this weekend is over with," Mike added, "you'll be officially back at work, full-time. That's gotta feel good."

He sounded just a little wistful as he spoke. As far as he was aware, Monday marked the beginning of his final week with Major Case, and it was a commonly-known fact that he was not looking forward to returning to Staten Island.

As his words, and the look on Mike's face, Alex shot a quick look at Bobby, but his expression was giving away nothing. She knew he'd been plotting something with Deakins where Mike was concerned, but neither man would spill the beans. It was infuriating as hell.

For all she knew, it could be just a 'thankyou and farewell' party they were planning, but instinct told her that it was something more significant. She had hoped that the vacancy that had just become available with the squad would have been offered to Mike, but word was Deakins already had someone to fill the position. So, whatever it was that Bobby and the captain were planning, it was being kept very tightly under wraps.

She came back to reality to find Bobby was watching her, a small, amused smile on his lips. She had the eerie feeling that he knew what she'd just been thinking, going by the smile on his face. They locked stares for just a brief moment before he looked away again.

"It will be good," he confirmed, in answer to Mike's comment. "I'm looking forward to it."

Mike nodded, but said nothing. Bobby looked back over at Alex, who was still watching him piercingly. He dipped his head just fractionally towards her and, in a slight gesture that only she spotted, he winked at her.

In that moment, Alex knew there was a more than pleasant surprise awaiting Mike when they started work on Monday morning. Feeling incredibly good all of a sudden, Alex wormed her way out of the booth, grabbing Mike's hand and pulling him out after her.

"What are we doing?" Mike wanted to know, bemused.

"I want to dance," Alex announced firmly. She shot him a look that was half-threatening and half-seductress. "You wouldn't say no to one dance, would you?"

A grin lit up his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

* * *

"You know," Jo mused as they watched Mike program a song into the jukebox, and start dancing with Alex, "they actually make a nice-looking couple."

"Two cops with Irish blood," Olivia retorted. "We'll be lucky if they don't end up killing each other."

"He'll treat her right," Bobby murmured, watching his partner and his friend as they moved together. "She's already got his respect, and he's got hers. I think they'll do okay."

"Half expected you to be jealous," Elliot teased him lightly. Bobby's smile widened.

"Not me, not of Alex and Mike." He paused, looking momentarily torn.

"What is it, hon?" Jo asked, touching his shoulder gently in concern.

Bobby indicated out to where their friends were dancing. Alex had slipped her arms around Mike's waist and her head rested against his shoulder. Mike was hugging her close, planting occasional soft kisses on her hair.

"I love dancing… but it's not something I've been able to do for a long time." He raised his braced left hand of the table slightly. "For… obvious reasons. If… If I'm jealous of anything, it's not being able to be out there as well."

"Why can't you?" Olivia asked, feeling almost indignant at his self-perceived restrictions. When Bobby looked at her in questioning surprise, Olivia answered by slipping out of the booth and urging Bobby to get up. "C'mon, let's give the lovebirds a run for their money."

Bobby glanced quizzically at Elliot as Olivia drew him out, but the SVU detective only grinned and nodded in encouragement. Smiling with relief and gratitude, Bobby allowed Olivia to lead him out onto the floor, and soon they were caught up in the music, the same as Mike and Alex.

Elliot watched with a wry smile for a moment before looking around at the other remaining member of their group.

"Well, Jo? You don't want to be a wallflower, do you?"

She smiled warmly back at him.

"It's okay, Elliot. You don't have to dance with me."

"I know I don't _have_ to," Elliot said even as he got up and reached out for her hand. "I_ want_ to. C'mon, dance with me?"

"I'll warn you, I'm not very good," Jo told him with some trepidation. Elliot shrugged as he pulled her to him and they began to move together to the music.

"It's fine. Neither am I. We can dance badly together."

Jo laughed softly and finally gave in, giving herself over to simply enjoying the moment, the same as her friends.

* * *

_Monday morning  
__One Police Plaza_

When Mike arrived at the Major Case squad room on Monday morning, he wasn't the least bit surprised to discover Bobby and Alex had beaten him there. He paused in the entry way to the bullpen, watching with a small smile as the two detectives sat at their respective desk, dealing with what little paperwork there was to do. Alex was busily filling out forms, while Bobby was tapping away steadily at the laptop that sat open in front of him.

Mike paused, looking around briefly, half-expecting Jo to appear from somewhere. But, for the first time since Bobby's initial release from the hospital, Jo was nowhere to be seen. Now that Bobby had gained sufficient proficiency with his right hand, he could more or less cope during the day without the aid of the home care nurse. It was only first up in the morning, and in the evenings, that Jo's services were now required by him.

He really was recovering, finally, Mike mused as he continued on into the bullpen and over to his desk. It was great, of course, but Mike couldn't help feeling some small hint of resentment. For him, Bobby's recovery and return to work only emphasized his own pending return to the shitty little precinct on Staten Island that had been his own personal hell for the last ten years.

He sighed inwardly, berating himself for the feeling of resentment that he couldn't seem to control. Bobby deserved to be where he was. He would say or do nothing to put a shadow on that, no matter how much he'd enjoyed working with Major Case over the last few months.

Mike stepped past Bobby and Alex's desks, nodding a forcibly cheerful greeting to them, and froze. The small desk that had been his for the last few months was empty. Sometime between Friday night and now, someone had completely cleared it. There was not even so much as a paper blotter remaining.

Mike felt his stomach tighten painfully. He'd known well enough that this was to be his last week with Major Case, but surely they could have left him the dignity of clearing his own things? Were they really this eager to get rid of him now that Bobby was back at work?

"What's wrong, Mike?" Alex asked, peering up at him quizzically. "You look a little pale."

Mike swallowed hard as he turned to face the two of them. The last thing he wanted to do was to say something that would hurt Bobby in any way… but damn it, it _hurt_, to think they were so eager to see the back of him.

"Uh… I just… I mean…"

_Great, Mike,_ he thought ruefully. _Real slick_.

"Captain wants to see you," Bobby said suddenly, inclining his head towards Deakins' office. Mike looked around, and sure enough, there was Deakins in the doorway, beckoning him over. Shoulders slumping, Mike turned and trudged across the floor to the captain's office. Alex watched him go, then turned a mock frown on her partner.

"That was just cruel, Bobby."

He raised his eyes to meet hers, a small smile on his lips.

"You didn't make much of an effort to reassure him. And really, if he'd just looked, he would have noticed all of his things were just shifted to a new desk."

Alex couldn't hold back the grin that fought its way onto her face.

"I wish I could see the look on his face when the captain tells him he's staying. Bobby, that really was a wonderful thing for you to do."

Bobby gave a lopsided shrug.

"I only suggested it. Deakins had to agree to it, and then he had to burn a few favours to pull it off. The brass weren't too happy with it, but I don't think they were game to argue once they heard the idea came from me."

"Well," Alex mused as she returned her attention to the paperwork in front of her, "you may as well take advantage of the sympathy vote while you can. It's not going to last forever."

With her head down, Alex missed the relieved smile that lit up Bobby's face.

"I know," he murmured, more grateful for that than he was capable of really expressing. "I know it won't."

* * *

Mike walked into Deakins' office, head held high and determined to keep the proverbial stiff upper lip in light of what he was certain would be the standard 'thankyou and goodbye' speech. He was a little startled to walk in to find himself confronted by a woman with dark, shoulder length, thick wavy hair, and a diminutive physical stature that reminded him starkly of Alex.

"Mike," Deakins told him with a barely-concealed grin, "I'd like you to meet Detective Carolyn Barek. Your new partner."

He stared first at Barek, and then at Deakins, and then back to Barek again.

"My… _partner_?"

Barek turned an amused smile towards the captain.

"You didn't tell him?"

"Thought I'd save it for a surprise," Deakins said as he dropped into his chair. "Although, I'm a little surprised myself that Eames didn't give it away when he got in this morning."

By then, Mike had recovered enough to close his mouth.

"I'm staying? I'm not going back to Staten Island?"

"Got it in one," Deakins confirmed.

"So… my desk…"

"Is now the next one over from the desk you had before," Deakins told him, amused. "The one you had is going to be repaired. That's why your things were cleared off it over the weekend. I was expecting someone to come and collect it early this morning, but they haven't arrived yet."

Shaking himself out of his shock, Mike flashed Barek a sheepish smile and reached out to shake hands with her.

"Pleasure to meet you, Barek."

She nodded, favouring him with an amused smile.

"Same."

"Okay, Mike," Deakins said, trying not to burst out laughing. "Why don't you give your partner the grand tour, and then take her out of the building for coffee and give her a rundown on what to expect here?"

Mike nodded, stepping over to hold the door open for her. She responded with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing as she walked through the door. He hesitated in following her, looking back at Deakins with genuine gratitude.

"Thankyou, Captain. I mean that."

"Don't thank me, Mike," Deakins answered. "Thank Bobby. It was his idea, originally. I just agreed with him."

Grinning and shaking his head, Mike hurried after his partner.

* * *

"I take it that went well," Alex commented as Deakins came over to their desks once Mike and Carolyn had gone.

"He was almost too pole-axed to remember to shake her hand," Deakins said with a grin. "But once it hit home that he wasn't going back to Staten Island…"

"He deserves the chance," Bobby said quietly. "Everything he's done since I… since the attack… And he didn't have to do any of it. We owed him the chance."

"Not to mention he's well and truly paid his debt for punching out that councilman," Alex added. "Ten years on Staten Island. That is the biggest load of crap."

Deakins chuckled softly.

"The Chief of D's nearly had a stroke when I told him that I wanted Logan in my squad. But then, I only had to mention your name, Bobby, and he folded like a suitcase."

Alex grinned across their desks at her partner.

"You see? I told you."

"I don't want to know what that's about," Deakins declared. "You two have enough work to keep you busy for the moment?"

"Are you kidding?" Bobby asked. "At the rate I'm typing, it'll take me the better part of the week to finish typing out the basic forms. I don't suppose the brass would spring for a secretary for me?"

Deakins smirked.

"You don't want me to answer that."

They watched as Deakins headed back to his office before exchanging grins and returning to work.

* * *

_tbc..._


	38. Epilogue

_A/N: So here we are, finally at the end of this not so little journey. This is the final chapter in this particular story, but perhaps not the last that I will write of Bobby in this particular 'verse. We'll just have to see where the muse leads me.  
In the meantime, thankyou to everyone who has read and enjoyed (if that is really the word for it) this story. It means nothing if people won't read and review, and I greatly appreciate all those who have done just that.  
__

* * *

_

_Approx. 1 month later  
SVU Headquarters _

Don Cragen looked up wearily from his desk as Elliot and Olivia walked in. They looked just as tired as he felt, he reflected grimly, and no wonder, given that they'd been on the job for almost thirty straight hours, with only a few hours break in between to get some desperately needed sleep.

"You've just come from the hospital?" he asked, not bothering to suggest they each go home to rest. Olivia nodded as she dropped into a chair and rubbed one hand over her eyes.

"The kid's awake, but she won't talk. We tried every trick in the book. She won't talk about what happened, and she won't even look at the pictures to identify Brody."

Cragen glanced instinctively at the clock.

"We have approximately five hours to convince that little girl to give a statement, and identify her attacker, or Brody is going to walk free."

"Yeah, and if that happens, he might just go after her again, this time to kill her!" Elliot argued. Cragen was unapologetic.

"If she won't talk, there's nothing we can do. I don't like it any more than you do, Elliot, but that's the law. We can't hold him without charge for longer than twenty-four hours, and if she won't talk, then we have no grounds to charge him! If you want that rectified, then get back to the hospital, and convince her to talk to you."

Olivia shook her head in frustration. "We got kicked out by her parents, in the end. All she'd say to us was that there was no point talking about it because there was no one who understood what she'd been through."

Cragen looked up at Olivia, an eyebrow raised.

"That's what she said? That no one understands."

"That's what she said," Elliot confirmed. "That she didn't want to talk to anyone who couldn't understand what she's been through. She won't even talk to the counsellor."

"Sir?" Olivia asked, seeing a familiar gleam in his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

"You say she won't talk to anyone who can't understand what she's been through," Cragen mused. "So… if we were able to produce someone who could understand? Someone who's been through a similar experience..."

Elliot latched on to what Cragen was edging towards well before Olivia realised.

"Oh, no… No way! We're not asking him."

And, abruptly, it dawned on Olivia, as well.

"You mean Bobby Goren? Captain, we can't ask him to talk to her!"

Cragen regarded them both with an unapologetic gaze. "This kid was repeatedly raped in her own home by her uncle, over a period of three or four hours. You've just said she won't talk to anyone, because in her eyes no one can understand what she's been through. If Bobby Goren doesn't fit the bill, then I don't know who does."

"Captain," Elliot protested tensely, "we can't use him like that! It's not right! He's barely started recovering from what happened to him. We can't expect him to relive all of that just to help us out."

"It's not right," Olivia insisted. "You know it's not!"

Still, Cragen was unrelenting.

"You can at least ask him. He's free to say no, if he wants. But you will at least ask him. Am I making myself clear?"

The two detectives exchanged sombre looks.

"Crystal," Elliot muttered, and with that he turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, with Olivia close behind.

* * *

"So, how do you want to do this?" Elliot asked grimly as they stood on the steps out the front of One Police Plaza. "Do we just take it straight to Bobby? Or do we go through Deakins first?"

Olivia looked unimpressed with both options. "Either way, we're likely to get a serve for this, from both Deakins and Alex. I still can't believe Cragen ordered us to do this?"

"He's right, though," Elliot conceded reluctantly. "If anyone can get through to this kid, it's Bobby."

"And we know what reliving it like that could do to him," Olivia pointed out. Elliot sighed.

"I know. Damn it, I know."

The two detectives stood there in silence, torn over what to do. They knew their captain was right. Bobby was, indeed, the logical choice to talk to their young victim, but asking him to do so was an abhorrent thought to both of them. They had too much respect for the recovery he'd made from his own ordeal to want to put him in such a position, where he had to relive everything anew. It was an upset that they both knew he could well do without.

Resolve filled Olivia's face.

"Let's take it to Deakins first. He'll have as good an idea as any whether Bobby could cope."

Elliot smiled tightly.

"And he won't hesitate to serve it up to Cragen if he thinks it's too much of a demand."

In agreement finally, Elliot and Olivia headed into One Police Plaza together.

* * *

They weren't sure whether to be relieved or not to discover Bobby and Alex absent from the Major Case bullpen. Mike Logan and his partner were nowhere in sight, either, Elliot noted with curiosity.

"Hey," Elliot murmured as they headed for Deakins' office, "maybe they're on a stakeout somewhere."

Olivia threw him a weary look.

"I doubt it, Elliot. Bobby's only been back at work officially for a month. Doesn't he still need to go to physio every evening for his hands? I doubt Deakins will put them on a stakeout until he doesn't need the physio anymore."

"Maybe," Elliot murmured. He sighed softly. "They're probably just out for lunch."

"C'mon," Olivia said. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Captain Deakins watched with trepidation as Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson approached his office. He'd sighted them the moment they'd walked around the corner into the bullpen, and he didn't know what worried him more – that they did not look in the least bit happy to be there, or that they even were there in the first place.

He watched as they looked pointedly towards Bobby and Alex's empty desks, noted the relief on their faces and felt that ominous sense of foreboding slowly growing. He didn't know why they were here, and he was fairly sure he didn't want to know.

They arrived at the door of his office, and Olivia knocked lightly on the open door out of courtesy.

"Excuse us, Captain Deakins. Could we have a word with you, sir?"

Deakins wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not that they hadn't immediately asked where Bobby was. Reigning in his mounting fears, Deakins motioned for them to come in and sit down.

"What is this about, Detectives?"

To his consternation, they exchanged a quick glance before either spoke, as though neither one was sure of what to say.

"Sir," Olivia said finally, "Captain Cragen… requested that we come. We… We have a problem with a current case, and we think Bobby might be able to help."

"But he doesn't have to," Elliot jumped in quickly. "We don't want to force him into anything that he's not ready to do."

Deakins regarded them both in bemusement, while a small part of him was silently breathing a very big sigh of relief. He had been genuinely afraid that Elliot and Olivia's arrival meant some new problem… perhaps an appeal by Matic to have his life sentence reduced, or overturned altogether. It was a huge relief that that was clearly not the case.

"Why don't you just explain to me what the problem is, Detectives, and then we'll see how we go from there. All right?"

Again, Olivia and Elliot exchanged looks. Deakins was being amiable enough right now, but just wait until he'd heard what the 'problem' was.

"We have a difficult case on our hands," Olivia explained. "The victim is an eleven year-old girl. She was assaulted in similar circumstances to Bobby. Our problem is that we know who the identity of one of the two men who attacked her, but they were both very careful. They used condoms, and they didn't leave behind any trace. Unless the little girl will identify him formally, we can't continue to hold him, and then there's every chance that he'll go after her again, this time to kill her."

"She's too scared to talk?" Deakins queried.

"We don't think it's that," Elliot answered. "She said she didn't want to talk about it to anyone, because no one understands what she'd been through. They only pretend to understand."

Deakins rubbed one hand over his face, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Hence the idea to ask for Bobby's help."

"We know," Elliot agreed ruefully. "We didn't want to come at all, but we've only got a few hours left before we have to let this mutt go, and our captain ordered us to come and ask."

"Tell me honestly," Deakins asked quietly, "do you really believe that Bobby could get through to this girl."

"If he can't," Olivia said ruefully, "then no one can. Captain Deakins, she was being looked after by her uncle while her parents were away overnight. He called a buddy over, they tied the little girl to her bed and raped her repeatedly over four or five hours."

Deakins was horrified.

"And she won't identify him?"

"Part of it is her parents," Elliot said. "They just won't believe that the uncle had anything to do with it. And the uncle is claiming he was in the den all night, listening to music with earphones on. He says she let a boyfriend in on the sly, he got rough with her, and now she's trying to get out of trouble with her parents by accusing him of rape."

Deakins frowned.

"That's a pretty flimsy alibi."

"But it could hold up if she won't identify him," Elliot pointed out.

The captain sighed softly.

"I would love to be able to tell you no, that Bobby can't help you. I really would love to be able to do that. I think this will rock him badly, and it's a reminder that he just doesn't need. But the truth is, it's not my call to make. The decision has to be his, and no one else's."

"So you're saying to go ahead and ask him?" Olivia queried. Deakins looked from her to Elliot piercingly.

"I'm saying to tread very carefully, Detectives. Yes, ask him. But for god's sake, be sensitive about it. And if he says no, then accept that. Don't argue with him over it."

"We won't," Olivia promised. "If he says no, then that's it. We won't push it any further with him. Uh… Where is he, anyway?"

"Around the corner in one of the task rooms," Deakins answered. "He's with Eames, Logan and Barek. Working lunch."

They stood up to go.

"Thankyou, sir," Elliot said graciously. Deakins said nothing as they went, and waited until they were out of sight before picking up the phone and dialling the number of Dr Thomas, Bobby's psychiatrist.

* * *

Elliot and Olivia found Bobby in one of the task rooms, just as Deakins had said. They paused before interrupting, watching as he interacted with his fellow detectives.

Though he had long since abandoned the eye patch, he was still restricted to wearing dark glasses both indoors and out to protect his vision. Self-conscious though he had been at first with the glasses, he'd quickly gotten used to having them on all the time. They served a secondary purpose, as well. The terrible facial scarring that he'd been left with on and around his eyes was almost completely hidden from sight when he wore the glasses.

His right hand was now completely free of plaster, and he was only required to wear a brace on it at night-time to keep from injuring it in his sleep. His left hand was still enclosed in a highly restrictive full length brace that ran from the tips of his fingers almost to his elbow, but word was that he had begun having physiotherapy for that, as well, and that it wouldn't be long before he had reasonable use of it once more.

Physically, Bobby was making progress in leaps and bounds, and the only remaining visible reminders of the attack were his hands and his eyes. What other bruises and scars he still had were well-hidden beneath long-sleeved and high-collared shirts.

Emotionally, things were still raw, and though he was dealing better with the memories, the pain was still all-too-visible for those who bothered to look past the façade. He was still hurting, very much so, and would continue to hurt for a very long time to come. He was learning to function normally again, though, as Elliot and Olivia could see as they observed him.

As they watched, Mike made a comment that they couldn't quite hear, and Bobby nearly choked on the sandwich that he'd just taken a bite of. Alex banged him on the back and held up a bottle of water for him to sip. Once he'd stopped coughing, he shot Mike a threatening look, and made a retort in a low voice. Alex and Carolyn abruptly burst out laughing and then, a moment later, Mike and Bobby cracked up as well.

Elliot nudged Olivia, and inclined his head towards the interview room. So far, none of the four detectives were aware of their presence, but it would only take one of them to glance up, and they'd be spotted. Best to just go in, and get it over with.

"We just going to ask him in there?" Elliot wondered in a low murmur. Olivia looked at him like he'd just grown a second head.

"Are you out of your mind? Alex and Mike are in there, and they both have guns. No, we talk to him on his own. Now, let's go."

* * *

"You're real funny when you want to be, you know that, Bobby?" Mike retorted, trying to sound sarcastic but unable to hide the huge grin on his face. Bobby threw a mock glare in his direction.

"Be thankful I don't get up and ram this sandwich down your throat. I could have choked, idiot."

Mike shrugged. "Hey, don't sweat it, pal. I know the Heimlich manoeuvre."

"Well, that makes me feel so much better. Next time, though, save the gutter talk for out of the office."

Mike's grin widened, if that were even possible.

"Hey, all I said was..."

"I heard the first time, thanks very much," Bobby growled. "And it's way too much information about what you and Alex did last Saturday night."

"I think we made him uncomfortable," Mike said to Alex in a conspiratorial tone. Carolyn shook her head, thought she was having a hard time not simply bursting out laughing again.

"He's not the only one, Logan. I suggest you shut your trap before one of us does it for you. I swear, I've never had a partner like you before."

"But you wouldn't want me any other way, would you, sweetheart?" he teased.

"Mike, please," Alex said with a smirk. "Some of us are trying to keep our lunches down."

Grinning, Mike started to return his attention to the file that sat open in front of him when a shadow crossed the doorway, and the four of them looked up to find Elliot and Olivia standing there.

"Hey, you escaped SVU for a while to come play with the big boys," Mike said cheerfully. Elliot grinned. It was near-impossible to be annoyed with Mike. Even when he insulted you, he did it with such good humour that you had to smile and laugh right along with him.

"Watch it, Logan," he retorted. "You've only been permanent with Major Case for a month. They could still drop you back on Staten Island."

"In your dreams," Mike shot back.

"What are you guys doing here?" Alex asked, and though she still had a smile on her face, it had become a tentative one. When Elliot didn't answer, Olivia bit back a sigh and spoke up.

"We actually need to talk to Bobby."

"Well, c'mon in," Alex invited them. "There's enough room in here."

"We need to talk to him privately," Olivia elaborated.

Silence fell. Carolyn, not quite understanding what she was in the middle of, dropped her gaze instinctively to her files. Mike and Alex automatically looked over at Bobby who, in return, was peering up at Elliot and Olivia through his dark glasses.

"This isn't anything to do with Matic… is it?" he asked, his voice taking on a telltale tremor.

"No," Elliot answered as firmly as his own nerves would allow him to. "Nothing to do with that son of a bitch, I guarantee it. No… This is something else."

"If you want to talk to him," Alex said suddenly, her voice taking on a highly defensive tone, "then you can do it right here."

"We'd really rather not," Olivia insisted. Alex bristled visibly, but Bobby reacted faster, standing up and stepping away from the table.

"It's okay, Alex. I'll be back in a minute." He stepped out of the room, past Olivia and Elliot. "This way. We'll go into booking. There's no one in there at the moment."

* * *

"Bobby, we've got to ask you something," Elliot said, once they were away from prying eyes and ears. "We didn't want to put this on you, but we're caught between a rock and a hard place, and we don't know what else to do."

"Spit it out, Elliot," Bobby said quietly. "Just say it."

"We're working a case," Olivia explained. "A little girl, just eleven. She was violently raped by her uncle. Except, her uncle denies it, wants to blame the assault on a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" Bobby echoed sceptically. "At eleven? Has she even hit puberty yet?"

"Two months ago, according to her mother," Olivia confirmed ruefully. "We've spoken to her friends, and according to them, there is no boyfriend, although her parents are insisting there is one..."

"Even though they've never actually met this supposed boyfriend," Elliot added.

"The uncle was in the house," Olivia continued on, "but he claims he was in the den all night, listening to music, and never heard a thing."

Bobby frowned a little.

"What do you need me for?"

"Bobby, she wasn't just raped once," Olivia told him gently. "She was tied to her bed and raped multiple times over a period of around five hours. There was no trace left behind, and the little girl won't talk to anyone about it because in her eyes there's no one who understands what she went through. We need her to talk, to identify her uncle as her attacker, or we're going to have to let him go."

Aware of the ashen colour that Bobby had gone, Elliot spoke quickly, in a low voice.

"Her uncle has a record of violence a mile long, and we're worried that if he walks, he might try to kill her. But she won't listen to us, and she won't talk to us."

"But you think she might talk to me," Bobby said softly.

"We're hoping she will," Olivia confirmed. "We need your help, Bobby, but we also don't want to force you into doing something that you're not ready for. You can say no if you want to. We're not going to think any less of you for it."

"No way," Elliot agreed. "Not at all."

Bobby didn't respond. He stood still and quiet, staring at the floor. His first instinct, and it had been a powerful one, had been to scream no at them. No, he wasn't ready. No, he couldn't do it. No, no, no, no, _**NO**_! But even as he gathered himself to refuse, a single, simple memory brought him up short. His memory took him back briefly to his time in St Clare's Hospital, after the attack, and to the memory of a visit from a brave young girl who had put aside her own traumas to extend an open offer of support to him.

He had been in regular contact with Maggie Coulter since that initial visit within the sterile confines of the ICU, and her courage and support had meant more to him than he was capable of expressing. How, in all good conscience, could he now refuse to help someone else, when Maggie had made such an effort for him?

"Yes," he said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

Both Olivia and Elliot started in surprise.

"Say that again?" Elliot asked, certain that he'd misheard. Bobby raised his eyes to look at them both, and beyond the pain and fear they saw a fresh spark of something that they could only define as pure, raw courage.

"I said yes. I'll talk to her. When you do want to do this?"

"Well… now, if you can come," Olivia said, stunned.

Bobby nodded.

"Let me tell the captain, and get my coat."

He walked out of the holding area, head held high. Elliot and Olivia exchanged glances once more before silently following him out.

* * *

"Mike, would you just sit down?" Alex growled, tension and worry starting to echo in her voice.

Mike, however, didn't move from where he stood in the doorway of the task room. It was where he'd been standing since Bobby went off with Elliot and Olivia.

"What the hell do they want with him?" he asked, not for the first time in the last ten minutes. "That's all I want to know."

"He's not being held hostage by them, Mike," Carolyn pointed out, not lifting her head from where she had her nose buried in a fresh file. "If he doesn't like whatever it is that they're saying to him, then he's free to just walk away from them."

"What if it is something to do with Matic?" Alex wondered. Carolyn shook her head, finally looking up and focusing a sure look on the other female detective.

"They said it wasn't. Why would they lie?"

Mike sighed in frustration. "They wouldn't. But, damn it, if they don't come back soon, I'm going to go find out what's going on myself. And if they've said or done a single thing to upset him..."

Carolyn raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you, his keeper? Some sort of self-appointed buffer zone? Bobby's a big boy, Mike. I think he can look after himself."

"You don't understand, Carolyn," Alex said softly. "Bobby's been coping well since he came back to work officially, but he still has moments where he struggles. When those moments happen, he really does rely on us to hold him up. We spent a lot of time convincing him he could rely on us like that so, in a way, a buffer zone is exactly what we are… to keep Bobby from crashing and burning if things ever get too hard for him."

"If you ever have the privilege of being there when he wakes up screaming and crying from nightmares that would turn your hair grey," Mike said coolly to his partner, "then maybe you'll think twice about deriding any of us for trying to show him a little bit of support."

Carolyn grimaced, well and truly chastened. "I'm sorry," she murmured in a sincere apology. "I didn't know. It's really as bad as that?"

"Did you read any of the official case reports?" Alex asked, and Carolyn shook her head in answer.

"I only know what was in the newspapers, and on the television. It was an SVU case… I didn't think it was my business to go chasing after the reports."

"Deakins has a copy that Captain Cragen gave him," Alex told her. "Ask him to let you read them. Tell him I suggested it. Just so you can have a better understanding of what he's been through, okay?"

Carolyn nodded.

"Okay, I'll do that."

"And don't read them on a full stomach," Mike advised, his gaze still fixed in the direction of booking. Carolyn glanced at him, and then back to Alex questioningly. To her disconcertment, Alex nodded in agreement.

"He's right. It's enough to make anyone sick."

Abruptly, Mike straightened up in the doorway.

"Hey, here they come… What the fuck...?"

Alex and Carolyn both got up at Mike's confused exclamation, just in time to see Bobby walk around the corner and cross the floor, heading back towards the bullpen. Elliot and Olivia were close behind, both looking inordinately relieved. Confused and concerned, Mike, Alex and Carolyn left the task room and edged around the corner, just in time to see the three of them disappear into Deakins' office.

"What do you think is going on?" Mike queried.

Before either Alex or Carolyn had a chance to speculate, Elliot and Olivia suddenly re-emerged from Deakins' office, this time with Bobby and Captain Deakins in tow. The four headed purposefully across the floor and disappeared around the corner, towards the lifts.

"Okay," Mike said tersely. "I said it already, but I'm going to say it again. What the fuck is going on?"

Alex shook her head, and was about to suggest they try calling Cragen over at SVU, when Deakins reappeared back around the corner. He paused, his gaze going to where the three of them stood, before grimacing noticeably and heading across the floor to where they stood.

"Well, I guess we're going to find out," Carolyn mused.

"Captain?" Alex asked as he walked over to them. "What's going on?"

Deakins motioned for them to return to the task room. "Let's go in there and shut the door, and I'll tell you what's happened."

* * *

"You okay, Bobby?" Elliot asked as Bobby paused out the front of the hospital.

He didn't answer, staring up at the less than welcoming architecture with obvious anxiety. It wasn't the same hospital where he had been treated, but simply standing there was raising enough unpleasant memories to give him considerable pause. He felt a warm hand gently clasp his own, and he blinked and looked around to see Olivia beside him, smiling at him with warm empathy.

"You don't have to go in there. We understand that it might be too much for you."

Bobby swallowed back the bile that had been building in his throat. "I have to," he said softly. "For… for myself as much as anything."

"Are you sure?" Olivia asked, staring intently at Bobby. She got a weak smile in return.

"If I can't do this much for someone else, how could I ever face Maggie again? Or even look at myself in the mirror… and believe me, that's hard enough now."

"Maggie?" Elliot wondered. "You mean Maggie Coulter..."

"She gave me support when she didn't have to," Bobby explained softly. "If she could do that for me..."

"You feel you should be able to do it for someone else," Elliot finished off quietly. "It's a noble gesture, Bobby, but if you don't feel ready to do this, it doesn't make you any less of a person. If you're not ready to take this step, we don't want to force you into it."

In answer, Bobby let his breath out with a long hiss and took a deliberate step towards the hospital.

"Take me to her."

* * *

Jessie Hill was a very angry eleven year old. She had been betrayed by the three main people in her life whom she had trusted most to look after her.

First, she had been betrayed by her uncle, who had put her through four or five hours of the worst hell imaginable, and then flatly denied it afterwards. Then, she had been betrayed by her mother and father, both of whom had decided to believe Uncle Owen's version of events rather than hers. She had been labelled a liar by all of them. A vicious, manipulative little liar, were the exact words her furious mother had used.

As far as her parents were concerned, everything had happened exactly as her uncle had claimed. She had let a boyfriend in late at night, they'd had a nice long romp in the sack that had gotten kind of out of hand, and now she was trying to blame her poor innocent uncle just to get herself out of trouble.

Jessie lifted her hands slowly, and looked at the rope burns around her wrists. There were similar markings on her ankles, indicating how she'd been tied down. If she lifted up her nightgown, she'd get an eyeful of the massive bruising on her stomach and chest. She had three broken ribs, a cracked pelvic bone, and numerous other minor injuries. It beggared belief that her parents would so readily believe her injuries were the result of sex with a boyfriend.

She almost laughed at the notion. She didn't even have a boyfriend, and if her parents pulled their heads out of their asses for five minutes, they might have remembered that. Hell, she still was of the opinion that boys in general were a repulsive disease – something to stay well clear of. There was no way she'd associate with boys, let alone let one into her pants. _Hell_, no.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to settle back down into the uncomfortable hospital bed. Then there were those detectives, the ones who had tried to convince her to talk to them about what happened. In the end, she had practically screamed at them to get out, but not for the reasons they thought. She wasn't scared of telling the truth about her uncle. She wasn't scared of having to testify against him. No, the reason she had told them to get out and leave her alone was because nothing they said or did would be able to change her parents' opinion that she was a liar.

Her mother and her father refused to believe that a person would willingly do harm to someone else in their own family. If she'd said a complete stranger had climbed in her bedroom window and attacked her, they would have believed her hands down. But because she'd accused her uncle, they had turned on her, instead. They would not believe that dear, sweet, harmless-as-a-fly Uncle Owen would harm her, let along violate her in the way she'd claimed.

'_Family doesn't hurt family, Jessie_,' her father had told her sternly after the detectives had gone. '_You should remember that before telling such horrendous lies_.'

She shut her eyes, trying to block out the sight of her father sitting in the corner of the room, reading one of his boring finance papers. She would never forgive her parents for betraying her like this.

The door of her room opened, and she heard her father speak angrily before she even had a chance to open her eyes.

"I thought we told you no more, Detectives."

"We thought we'd try again once Jessie had had some time to think things through," came the calm reply.

Jessie half-opened her eyes, and got an eyeful of her father getting into the face of the male detective who had tried to speak to her earlier that day. To the cop's credit, he wasn't backing down or showing any sign of intimidation.

"She's had time to think, all right," Martin Hill snapped angrily. "She's going to withdraw those idiotic accusations against her uncle."

Olivia stepped around and up to the bed, smiling reassuringly at her.

"Hi, Jessie."

Jessie looked away. "I said I didn't want to talk."

"Why?" Olivia asked. "Do you want to withdraw your complaint against your uncle?"

"Go ahead, Jessie," her father told her sternly. "Tell them."

Jessie regarded her father with cold, angry eyes.

"No," she said softly. "I don't."

"Damn it, Jessie!" he bellowed, only to suddenly find Elliot in his face.

"Back off, Mr Hill. Let your daughter say what she wants to say, or the first thing we do when we walk out of here is call Child Welfare and have them send an advocate over."

Olivia gently touched Jessie's shoulder, drawing the girl's attention back to her. "Honey, listen to me. You say you don't want to withdraw the complaint, but unless you talk to us, and tell us everything that happened, we won't be able to stop your uncle from going free. The only way we can keep him locked up is if you're willing to talk to us."

"What's the point?" Jessie asked bitterly. "He won't believe me. He'd rather believe Uncle Owen over me."

"Goddamn it, Jessie, the man is your uncle!" Martin snapped. "He's family! Family just doesn't hurt each other, not like that."

"Exactly what rock have you been living under?" Elliot asked him incredulously. Jessie looked away again, but not before Olivia caught sight of the tears in her eyes.

"You see? He'll never believe me. Nobody understands. Nobody..."

"That's not true," Elliot said quietly. He paused, glancing towards the open doorway, and then spoke gently. "Jessie, we'd like to introduce you to Detective Robert Goren."

Jessie looked back around slowly, and was slightly taken aback by the huge man who had suddenly appeared in the doorway. Immediately, her gaze was drawn to his face, and to the wrap-around dark glasses he wore. Then, to his left hand, which was completely enclosed in a restrictive brace. He didn't seem much different to the other two detectives, although there was something about him that attracted her interest. Her curiosity faded quickly, though, and she threw a scathing look in Elliot's direction.

"Someone oughtta tell him the Secret Agent look with the dark glasses is totally old."

Bobby smiled, and chuckled softly. "You're not the first person to point that out, and believe me, I wouldn't wear these if I didn't have to."

Jessie looked back at him, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"I have to wear these glasses all the time, indoors as well as out. My eyes are too sensitive at the moment. The light would only damage them."

For a brief moment, Jessie was almost drawn in by the detective's soft, lulling tone. Almost, but not quite.

"So you've got sensitive eyes," she retorted. "Big deal. What's that got to do with me?"

"It's how it happened that's relative to you," Bobby answered. "It's not anything natural, and it wasn't an accident."

"Just what the hell has all this got to do with what's happened to my daughter?" Martin Hill demanded to know impatiently. Bobby looked around at Elliot.

"Could you dim the lights in here, Elliot?"

Elliot did so wordlessly, and Olivia pulled the shades to keep out any light from the corridor outside. Once the room had been sufficiently dimmed, Bobby reached up and carefully removed the dark glasses, revealing the awful scarring around his eyes. Jessie couldn't help it. She gasped aloud, eyes widening at the sight.

"Oh god… What happened to your eyes?"

"They were burned shut with a hot poker," Bobby explained quietly. "They had to be surgically opened again."

"Who did that to you?" Jessie asked, expecting him to perhaps say that he had been caught out while undercover, or something similar.

"The two men that my brother recruited to beat me, rape and kill me," Bobby answered simply. Jessie's breath caught audibly, while Martin Hill stood at the end of his daughter's bed, staring at Bobby with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Only Elliot and Olivia noticed the slight tremor in Bobby's stance, and the way his right hand closed into a fist at his side.

"Your… your brother?" Jessie echoed, her voice barely more than a whisper. Bobby approached the bedside slowly, his focus completely on the little girl.

"My brother," he confirmed. "He planned an attack, and he found a couple of men to help him carry it out."

"But… why?"

"I don't really know for sure why," Bobby admitted. "He gave a lot of reasons, but I'll never know if any one of them in particular was the real reason for it."

"Bullshit," Martin Hill said suddenly, snapping out his momentary shock. "This is all bullshit..."

Without hesitation, Elliot was right back in his face.

"No, Mr Hill, it's not. And I suggest you shut up right now, and let Detective Goren talk to your daughter. Okay?"

More than a little put-out, Hill backed off, scowling angrily. Where she lay in the bed, Jessie continued to stare at Bobby, no longer even aware of her father's presence.

"Your brother really did that? He… set you up like that?"

"He did more than set me up," Bobby said softly, unable to keep the anger and the hurt entirely out of his voice. "He took part in it himself."

"Did you have trouble making people believe it?"

A small, bitter smile touched Bobby's lips.

"I could barely make myself believe it. I was in such complete denial that I totally repressed all the memories that included my brother assaulting me. And then, when I did remember, I was sure that it must have somehow been my fault. That my own brother wouldn't have hurt me like that unless I'd done something to really deserve that sort of punishment." Bobby paused, glancing briefly across at Elliot. "It took a couple of good friends to make me understand that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't have to lessen what he'd done to me just because he was family… or for any other reason."

Jessie's gaze dropped to his left hand.

"Did they do that, too?"

Bobby followed her gaze down, and nodded once.

"They put my hands on wooden blocks, and smashed them up with a hammer. Every bone in my left hand was broken."

Jessie looked back up at Bobby, tears filling her eyes and overflowing.

"Your brother really… I mean… He..."

She couldn't bring herself to say it. Despite her tough façade, she just couldn't make herself say it. Bobby said it for her, in a voice that was audibly strained.

"My brother raped me," Bobby confirmed softly, pain brutally clear in his voice. He looked around at Hill, and the look on his face was such that Hill could not hold his gaze. "Don't say that families never hurt each other like that, because it does happen. It happens all the time. It happened to me, and it happened to your daughter. Stop denying it, and start supporting her, like fathers are supposed to do."

The raw emotion in Bobby's voice, and in his face, could not be denied. Hill couldn't avoid it, even though he was trying hard enough.

"But…" he stammered. "Owen's my wife's brother, for God's sake..."

"And this is your daughter," Olivia pointed out firmly. Jessie looked from Bobby to her father, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I loved Uncle Owen, Dad! You know I did! Why would I say he did something like this to me, if it wasn't true..."

Though Hill still didn't move, the tears that filled his eyes were a visible sign that some invisible barrier had finally been shattered.

"Oh god… My own brother in-law," Hill moaned, his words sending a thoroughly unpleasant chill through Bobby. He remembered thinking exactly the same thing when he first began to remember Richie's involvement in his assault. The truth was, he'd known from the first just how deeply involved Richie had been but, as he had said to Jessie, he had been in such an utter state of denial that he effectively repressed the memories. Memories that had, eventually, forced their way painfully to the surface of his mind.

"I'll tell you what happened," Jessie whispered in a trembling voice as she watched her father's ice-cold façade finally splinter and fall apart. She looked up at Bobby, a desperate hope in her eyes. "If you'll stay...?"

Bobby nodded once, silently hoping that he would be able to hold down the contents of his stomach long enough for the girl to make a formal statement. God, he was starting to wish he hadn't had that schnitzel sandwich…

"I'll stay," he promised her softly.

* * *

_Approximately one hour later _

It was sheer luck, and nothing more, that Bobby made it to the bathroom down the corridor in time. Giving a fleeting prayer of thanks that the bathroom was empty, he rushed into the nearest stall, collapsed painfully to his knees and threw up violently into the toilet bowl.

Minutes passed that felt more like hours, before he heard the bathroom door creak open slowly, and a familiar voice spoke.

"Bobby? You need some help, man?"

Bobby didn't answer. Though his stomach seemed to have finally emptied itself, he was still dry-retching in an almost reflexive action. He had no idea how much time had really past by the time he managed to regain control, and pushed himself back from the bowl, reaching up weakly to flush it.

A hand on his shoulder told him he wasn't alone, and he looked around slowly to find Elliot crouching there, watching him with visible concern.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. I didn't anticipate her wanting you to stay while she gave her statement."

"S'okay," Bobby mumbled, getting awkwardly to his feet. Leaning over the basin, he scooped some water from the tap into his mouth, trying to wash out the acrid taste of vomit.

"No," Elliot said softly. "It's not okay. I should have gotten you out of there long ago."

Bobby stood there in silence, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He'd been shaken, he didn't deny that. But at the same time, he didn't feel particularly bad. Exhausted, but not in a bad way. He couldn't say he felt good, but he definitely was not feeling bad. It was… a curious sensation.

"I'll be okay, Elliot," he assured him softly. "You heard what Deakins said, about letting Dr Thomas know that you might need to see him. You want me and Olivia to take you to his office."

Instinctively, Bobby wanted to say no, but he knew better.

"Yeah," he murmured softly. "I think you'd probably better."

* * *

One Police Plaza Alex had been acting like a caged lion for a good forty-five minutes, pacing aimlessly around the squad's bullpen and snarling at anyone who so much as looked at her the wrong way. Eventually, when Mike tried to convince her to settle down and got punched in the chest for his trouble, everyone decided to just leave her to her own devices. And so she continued her restless pacing of the bullpen until Deakins finally emerged from his office and strode across the floor to Mike and Carolyn's desks.

"Alex. Quit wearing a hole in the floor, and come over here."

She walked over, her expression dark.

"If you're giving us a new case now..."

"Trust me, I value my life more than that," Deakins retorted. "No, I just got a call from Olivia Benson. She and Elliot delivered Bobby to Dr Thomas' office a few minutes ago."

"Is he okay?" Mike asked, sounding as anxious as Alex looked, much to Deakins' quiet amusement.

"According to Benson, he's a little shaken, and pretty much exhausted, but he's otherwise okay. He's with Dr Thomas now, but Benson said they can't wait there for him to finish, that they have to get back to sort out the little girl's statement. Alex, go wait for him, and then take him home, okay? Stay with him as long as you feel you need to, and don't let him come back here before tomorrow."

She nodded. "I won't. Thankyou, sir."

"So, they got what they needed?" Mike asked tightly once Alex had gone.

Deakins nodded in confirmation.

"Benson says that they did."

The expression on Mike's face was less than forgiving.

"I hope dismantling Bobby's state of mind was worth it."

Deakins shot Mike a hard look.

"It was Bobby's decision to go with them to the hospital, Mike. No one pressured him into it, least of all Benson and Stabler. Now, I know you care about his wellbeing, and I appreciate that, but do not stand there and denigrate Bobby's courage, just because you think he still can't cope well enough to be able to make decisions for himself. He can, and the truth is that he might just be stronger than you're giving him credit for."

Mike blanched a little at the verbal reprimand, but didn't back down.

"Well, I guess we'll know by tomorrow just how badly this has affected him, won't we?"

Deakins nodded his agreement.

"Yes, we will, and I think you might just be surprised."

* * *

_Dr Graham Thomas' office _

Bobby wasn't the least bit surprised to emerge from Dr Thomas' office nearly an hour later to find Alex sitting in the reception area, waiting for him. He was just quietly grateful that he could offer her a genuine smile, even if it felt somewhat jaded to him.

She stood up to greet him, smiling warmly but making no effort to make physical contact, instead leaving that choice to him. She was hugely pleased when he walked over to her, and put his arms around her carefully in a fierce hug, which she returned with enthusiasm.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

"Tired," he admitted in an equally soft voice. "I don't think I could cope with going back to work now."

"It's okay," she reassured him. "Deakins anticipated that. He told me to take you home, and that you weren't to show your face at One Police Plaza again until tomorrow."

"And you…?" Bobby asked tentatively. She smiled again. She knew what he was hedging at, even if he couldn't quite bring himself to say it.

"He told me to stay with you as long as I felt I needed to. Don't worry, Bobby. I won't leave you alone."

The relief in his brown eyes was blatantly obvious.

"Thankyou."

* * *

"Can I ask you something?"

Alex raised an eyebrow as she handed him a mug of coffee, and settled down on the sofa beside him with a steaming mug of her own.

"What is it?"

"What would you say if I told you I was considering cosmetic surgery?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and as much as she knew she shouldn't, the opportunity was just far too good to pass up.

"Okay, which is it?"

He glanced at her, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"Tummy tuck? Liposuction? Or maybe you were thinking collagen injections?"

He smiled wryly. "Sure, like I need liposuction. I think the months of having next to no appetite did wonders for my waistline. Although, the way you and Jo keep trying to force-feed me..."

"You're never going to let the poor woman live down the hotdog incident, are you?"

"Alex, I had to ride the goddamn subway with a shirt that looked like a Picasso painting. Damn straight I'm not going to let her live it down."

She laughed softly. "Okay, so why are you really thinking about cosmetic surgery?"

He hesitated, and then removed the dark glasses just long enough for her to get an eyeful of the scarring on his face. "Because of this."

Her amusement dropped away like a rock.

"Oh… Bobby..."

"If you think I'm being an idiot..."

"No, no I don't. I understand why you'd want it. And, I guess, if it will help you to feel better about yourself in general, then I'm not going to try and talk you out of it. Just, promise me you won't choose some third class hack?"

Bobby smiled wryly.

"Don't worry, I won't. I talked to Dr Cutler a few days ago, and he said he'd be willing to do it when he's in New York next… That'll be around two or three months' time. I… I guess I can wait until then."

Alex nodded her approval. "Well, he did a damned good job on your eyes. I think he'd be a good choice. So… You'll definitely have it done?"

"I think so," he murmured. "I haven't made an absolute final decision yet, but I think I will. It… It's not that I want to feel completely normal… I mean, I do, but I know that cosmetic surgery won't really change how I feel inside. But I'll at least be able to feel confident again about talking to witnesses… and to suspects… without having them look at me like I'm some sort of freak."

"I understand," Alex assured him. "I really do, Bobby. And you know you always have my support."

"I appreciate that," Bobby murmured gratefully.

Silence fell for a little while as they each sipped at their coffees, lost in their own thoughts. When the silence was finally broken, it was Alex who broke it.

"How are you feeling about today, Bobby? About talking to that little girl, and having to listen to her story, I mean. Tell me honestly."

"Honestly? It hurt to go over everything as bluntly as that. But at the same time, it helped a little, too. I… I felt like… just being able to talk about it at all, and to someone I'd never met before… Well, it was a pretty big step forward. It did hurt, but it wasn't the same kind of hurt. I… I can't really explain it, except to say that I just didn't feel so bad afterwards."

"I think I understand what you're trying to say," Alex murmured. "I'm glad to hear it, too. You've talked a few times about wanting to claim your life back, and today I think you really made a lot of progress with that."

Bobby smiled faintly.

"I think I did, too."

* * *

Alex awoke with a start sometime after midnight, yanked out of sleep with a sickening jolt. For several seconds she couldn't remember where she was, but then it came back to her. She was in the spare bedroom in Bobby's apartment, having decided to stay there in anticipation of him having some truly horrendous nightmares, following the day's events.

Realising that Bobby was the very reason she had been woken so abruptly, Alex slid out of the bed and hurried out and around to his room, already running through the various methods she had of safely waking him up from his nightmares.

She pushed open the door of his bedroom, and stopped short. Illuminated by the soft light of a lamp that he'd taken to keeping on all night, Bobby slept soundly and peacefully in his own bed, apparently undisturbed by dreams of any kind.

Alex blinked, confused. She was sure he must have been having a nightmare. Why else would she have woken up? And then, as she stood there watching him, something occurred to her. She had been woken by something unusual. There had been no cries in the night, no screams, no sobs. Nothing. All was quiet. All was peaceful. Bobby was peaceful.

She had literally been woken by the sound of silence.

Venturing into his room, she took the liberty of drawing the quilt up to cover him properly. Then, in an impromptu gesture of tenderness, she leaned down and pressed her lips gently to his cheek. He stirred a little at the contact, but didn't wake up. Smiling to herself with a contentment that she hadn't felt for a long time, Alex backed silently out of the room and returned to her own bedroom, and to the peacefulness of sleep.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
